PART TWO

Chapter 1

Unfamiliar Territory

"Look at it, there…Be still, it will see you!"

"Have you ever been this close to one before?"

"No, never…he looks to be a fierce one, does he not?"

"I wonder if it would charge at us like an angry bear if we approached…"

"This is not an experiment! We are capturing it and returning it to the camp."

"His tent is up yonder, I can see its tip. There may be another inside."

"Then we must be swift and silent. I shall approach from behind…if it should see me, fire an arrow, but not to kill, merely to distract. If it should attack me, use your best judgment."

Madril crept out of the bushes and approached the Haradrim scout from behind. The running water in front of the man masked the sound of Madril's approach; he stealthily reached out and grabbed the scout, covering his mouth to prevent him from calling out. Then he signaled to his men.

The three excitedly emerged from their hiding places; one disarmed the scout, and then the others raised their weapons. Madril let go of the scout and backed away, raising a dagger. The scout did not attempt to make a sound.

"It looks terrified," Damrod commented, scrutinizing the scout's face.

"We mean you no harm," one of the younger Rangers, Mablung, a protégé of the Captain's, said consolingly. "We only…"

"It cannot understand you," Madril scoffed. "It is stupid, like an animal, and cannot speak our language."

"It can fathom intentions by tone of voice," Mablung retorted.

"It can 'fathom' nothing," Madril said, and he turned toward the encampment, gesturing to it. "Now let us see its tent…"

The scout suddenly jerked, and was poked threateningly by Madril's dagger.

"Something in the tent you do not want us to find, eh?" Madril said with a smile. "Well, let us see, then!"

Madril approached the tent, dagger raised, while the other Rangers kept guard on the scout. He opened the tent flap and his eyes widened.

A beautiful woman, black as the scout and dressed in revealing native clothing, lay sleeping on furs inside the tent. Madril hesitated, then turned toward his men. He opened the tent flap wider so that they could see.

Several jaws dropped; the scout tried to make a move while they were distracted, but one Ranger, Anborn, had sense enough to keep his eyes on the prisoner.

"Get rope," Madril whispered to Anborn. "Use some on the scout. Damrod, put your dagger to the female's throat. I will tie her."

Anborn and Mablung bound the scout's hands tightly, while Damrod rather nervously put his dagger to the woman's throat. When Madril touched her hand, she cried out, but Damrod covered her mouth and brought the dagger to her eyes so she could see it. Her eyes widened and she did not resist as Madril bound her wrists and ankles, then gagged her.

Damrod and Madril rose and stared at one another.

"Sir…" Damrod said nervously.

Madril ignored him and faced the men outside.

"Captain Faramir ordered us to capture and return the scout, and we shall do so," Madril said. "The female, however, was not a part of the orders, and as your field commander I will determine her fate."

"Captain Faramir would want her captured as well," Mablung said.

"As I said, I am in charge here," Madril said, narrowing his eyes at all of them. "She will remain here, in this tent, as my prisoner, for so long as we are stationed in this wilderness."

"That is ridiculous!" Anborn protested. "Should the Captain find out…"

"He will not find out, because none of you will tell him."

There was a pause.

"It is wrong," Damrod said slowly.

"That creature inside the tent is just as much a beast as this one," Madril said, gesturing to the man. "And you know how Captain Faramir would have her treated if we were to bring her to camp. She would become an honored guest! Faramir has little notion of the relativity of things. That female may be fairer looking, but it is no different from…a bear, as you say, or…or the 

deer that we hunt. It is inferior to us, and should not be considered anything greater."

The men glanced at one another. The Haradrim scout stared at Madril with a fierce hatred that he did not notice.

"Are we to begin capturing female deer, then?" Damrod asked quietly.

"How dare you think to insult me!" Madril said angrily. "The Lord Denethor respects me as Faramir's right hand! At my declaration you could be banished from Gondor!"

The men turned their eyes to the ground. Madril sighed, then smiled. "Come now, my friends, let these beasts not drive a wedge into our bonds of fellowship, eh? It is but a small matter. We shall give Faramir his scout, and let him try futilely to communicate with it, and he shall be well pleased with you all. I will even tell him what an excellent job you did helping me capture the thing."

And so the men reluctantly followed their orders, leaving the bound and gagged Haradrim woman inside the tent and heading back to their camp with the obedient scout prisoner.

They entered a cave and followed a tunnel until they reached the main cavern where Faramir sat reading a text illuminated by several torches. He rose and approached the men, staring interestedly at the prisoner.

"Not injured, is he?" Faramir asked.

"No, sir," Mablung responded. "We caught him clean, sir."

"Excellent. And he was alone?"

Mablung didn't answer; there was a pause, and then Madril said, "Yes, sir, alone."

"I see…well then…"

"Not alone," said a deep soft voice, and the Rangers widened their eyes in shock.

The scout glared at the Rangers, then turned to Faramir and said, in a clear voice with a slight accent, "There was a woman with me. She is in my tent. One of your men meant to take her for himself and not tell you."

"What?!" Faramir said, alarmed. "Which man?!"

The scout turned, then pointed to Anborn. "That man."

"No!" Anborn protested, after a moment of shocked confusion. "It was not I, Captain, I swear it…"



"It was he," Madril said heavily, "and I should have stopped it. Forgive me, Captain…I did not know there was a woman in the tent. Anborn entered and left it, and spoke only of 'treasure,' and for his bravery in our last skirmish, I gave him the contents of the tent. I should have searched it."

"You cannot be blamed, Madril," Faramir said, and he turned to Anborn. "I can hardly believe such from you, Anborn."

Anborn looked desperately at his comrades, but Mablung and Damrod avoided eye contact with him, and Madril looked at him threateningly.

"I…apologize, my Captain," Anborn said. "It shall never…happen again…"

"No, it shall not," Faramir said sternly. "You are removed from the First Patrol as of this moment."

"Captain…please…"

"Report to Geldin. He shall assign you cooking detail."

Anborn mouthed wordlessly, gave one last look to his comrades, and then walked off.

"Take me to this tent," Faramir ordered the Rangers.

He followed them out of the cave and walked along behind them. When they had reached the tent, he stopped and faced them.

"The Haradrim are not orcs," Faramir said, staring hard at his Rangers. "They are Men, the same as we are. A woman of their kind is to be treated the very same as a woman of Gondor."

Faramir opened the tent flap, and was startled for a moment by the scandalous appearance of the woman. He blinked, then pulled out his dagger and quickly cut the ropes binding her wrists and ankles, then removed the gag.

"Can you speak to her?" Faramir asked the scout.

"She speaks Westron," the scout replied.

The Rangers all looked surprised, including Faramir; he held out his hand. "My Lady, forgive us for our cruel mistreatment of you."

The woman hesitantly took his hand and he helped raise her to her feet. "Thank you," she mumbled.

They walked back to the cave, and then Faramir asked the woman, "Are you hungry?"



The men glanced at one another.

"Yes, a little," the woman said quietly.

"You shall dine with me," Faramir said. He turned to his men. "Take the scout and place him in the cell…but do not mistreat him, or he will tell me of it."

"I shall place him there myself, sir," Madril said, leading the prisoner away.

Faramir led the woman to his private dining table, located in the isolated part of the cavern that was his private quarters; she sat across from him, and he ordered that soup be served. Then he dismissed all men and guards in the nearby area so that he could talk to the woman alone.

"I truly do apologize for your mistreatment," Faramir said. "My men have no respect for your people…but it is no fault of theirs. This is how they have been taught."

The woman slowly smiled. "You've been taught differently, I guess?" she said, without the slightest hint of a Haradrim accent, although some of her words were strange.

"You speak so well," Faramir said, amazed. "How did you learn Westron?"

She hesitated. "Oh, well, I…er…Dahrik taught me, mostly…"

"Dahrik?"

"He's the scout you captured."

"I see…and what is your name?"

"Er…Nymphadora."

"Nymphadora…your people have beautiful names."

"Thank you."

"I…am quite curious…why were you traveling with that scout? Is he your…husband?"

"No, no…he…is a friend…I, er…I am a scout as well."

"You are…a soldier?"

"Yes."

"There are women soldiers in the Haradrim army?"

"Yes," Nymphadora said, brightening. "Plenty of them…there are whole legions of women 

soldiers. Mostly they guard the homeland, though, which would explain why you've never seen them."

"But you are different?"

"Er…yes, well…our whole tribe is rather different."

"Is it?"

"I…I really shouldn't say more…but I will say that you have nothing to fear from Dahrik and me. I know you think we're your enemies, but we're not…not really. We're…different."

"Forgive me, but…I must still have you under watch at all times."

"That's all right."

"I…regret that I have no women to attend you…"

"Oh, that's all right…I've been around men so long…haven't seen another woman in months."

"Perhaps one of my men can…find more comfortable clothing for you to wear."

"Oh, no, it's no trouble, really."

Faramir hesitated, then said, blushing slightly, "Your current attire is…rather exotic. My men are…" he paused. "None have seen a woman such as you, and some have not seen any woman in near as great a time as you."

"I…see…er…I'll take whatever you've got, I mean…happily…sorry to offend…"

"It is no offense, I would simply wish that my men be attentive to their duties and not…well…they are distracted easily enough as it is."

Nymphadora smiled nervously and averted her eyes to her soup.

Not far away, Madril finished barring and supporting the makeshift cage and was about to leave when the prisoner called out to him.

"Your people," he said. "You are from Gondor?"

Madril turned. "Yes."

"My name is Dahrik; I was Messenger for my general. When I went to Gondor under a sign of peace with a message for your king I was fired at by your scouts before I could even speak to someone."



"Your people have given us much trouble in the past, and most recently have shocked us with your alliance with the forces of Mordor. It cannot be helped for most soldiers to look on you with hatred and animosity."

"And what is your personal opinion of the Haradrim?"

Madril smiled wryly. "Let us just say that I do not believe all Men are equal."

"Do you still think I am a stupid beast?"

"Clearly you are not."

"Did you think I had confused you for that other man, when I identified him?"

"Not for a moment. I assume you want something from me."

"It is always good to have a friend in unfamiliar territory."

Madril's smile widened. "Do not think you carry all the power over me. You may threaten to expose me to Faramir, but it would not be difficult for me to have you killed, or even do it myself, for that matter."

"I think it would not be easy."

"On the contrary, it would be quite easy. I would merely say that you tried to escape, and I was forced to kill you."

Dahrik smiled. "If that is so, why do you not kill me now, when we are alone here and no one watches? Then I could never tell your lord that it was you and not that other man who deserves punishment."

Madril hesitated, then scowled at Dahrik. "Ah, it is too risky…but there are other ways."

"May the Sun King light your path, my friend," Dahrik said with a mocking grin as Madril walked away.

--

"That one's too fat."

"I don't know…"

"He's human, I'd warrant anything."

Neville swallowed and tried to keep his body from shaking as the orcs scrutinized him. Merry was unconscious after taking a blow to the head; Pippin was alert but also silent.

After much debating, one of the taller, blacker orcs addressed Neville directly.

"Are you a Halfling?"

"I…I…"

"Of course he is!" Pippin interrupted. "Are you all blind? He's my cousin!"

"They're lying," a smaller, greyer orc said angrily. "He's too big to be a Halfling."

"I'm a Took," Pippin said quickly. "We Tooks are known to be bigger than most hobbits. Why, a distant cousin of mine…of ours…Bandobras, I think was his name…why, he could ride a horse! Neville here has Took on both sides of his family, direct descendant of Bandobras, wouldn't you know, and…"

"I don't know," the taller orc said, frowning at Neville. "What's your name again?"

"N-Neville Longbottom," Neville stammered.

"Hmm," the orc said thoughtfully. "Longbottom…"

"Let's kill him and get on with it!" the smaller orc hissed. "Your master won't be happy if we're late! And their companions might be following us! We shouldn't delay li…"

The larger orc grabbed the smaller one's throat, silencing him. Still clenching his throat, the larger orc said suddenly, "Longbottom, of course! I knew I had heard that name before…Lord Saruman's pipe weed. He gets it from the West, the land of the Halflings! The name's on all of his storage boxes!"

"It is?" one of the other orcs said uncertainly.

"You can read?" another said, shocked.

"Quiet," the leader snapped. "This one's a Halfling all right…tie him up, boys! We'd best get a move on."

The leader let go of the smaller orc's throat and headed to the front of the pack, while Neville was viciously grabbed and his hands and feet were bound.

"Good thing they make such fine leaf, eh?" Pippin said cheerfully to Neville.

But while Pippin was chuckling to himself, Neville looked over concernedly at Merry, whose head seemed to have stopped bleeding but who still hadn't woken up.

I hope somebody's coming to rescue us…

--

"Didn't we pass that rock a minute ago?"

Harry sighed, becoming increasingly aggravated by Ron's constant complaining. He looked over at Dumbledore; the old wizard was concentrating on their surroundings, ignoring Ron.

"Maybe we should stop," Harry suggested. "It's getting dark."

"We cannot stop for nightfall," Dumbledore said quietly. "In the land of Mordor all is darkness."

"I don't think the brightest sunlight would give us any more help figuring out where we're going," Ron commented. "This place is a mess…every way through turns out to be a dead end. Unless we want to get impaled on a bunch of sharp rocks, I suggest we…"

"We what?!" Harry interrupted, suddenly and angrily. "Turn back? Ginny's in trouble!"

Ron bowed his head silently.

"We continue on," Dumbledore said levelly. "We have no choice but to do so."

Dumbledore continued walking; Harry walked up alongside of him while Ron tarried farther back.

"Do you think Frodo and Sam are having better luck?" Harry asked with a sigh, regaining his calm.

"We have no way to know."

"I hope Hermione and Neville are okay."

"We have no way of knowing that either."

There was a pause.

"Professor," Harry said slowly, "do you think it's better, without the others?"

"What do you mean?"

"Ron kept telling me that…that he wished just a few of us could go to Mordor, that others would hold us back…and you…you said that you…well…sensed something evil in Aragorn. Do you think…it might be a good thing he's not with us?"

Dumbledore sighed. "I do not know that what I sensed in Aragorn was evil at all. Certainly I 

cannot claim that he did anything but do his very best to lead us since Gandalf's death…and when Galadriel spoke to me she assured me that I had nothing to fear from him."

"Galadriel," Harry said heavily. "I wish she had said something more specific to me."

"The wisdom of the elves…Gandalf spoke much of it. It would seem their counsel is intended to be ambiguous until the moment when it must be used…then, the person who has received the counsel may recognize what it is that they had been told to do. But not before."

"I think she should just tell us everything she knows."

"If you could see a doomed future for someone, what would you do?"

"I'd tell that person."

"How would you tell them?"

"I'd just…tell them exactly what I could see, warn them what would happen."

"If you had foreseen Ginny's present situation, all of our present situations, before this whole adventure started, what would you have done?"

"I would've told her never to go into the White Tree."

"That would have changed her entire future."

"Exactly. She wouldn't be tortured right now."

"But you cannot be sure of that. She could be in just as much danger, only one which you cannot identify."

"But she'd have a better chance."

"True…and yet…if you have seen her entire future, you can narrow the entire cascade of terrible events down to a single moment—her walk outside with Merry in Bree, which resulted in her capture by Lucius Malfoy."

"So you're saying…I should just warn her not to go for a walk outside, right when she's about to?"

"That would put her in a position where you could more easily predict what may happen to her…she would have traveled with us, and likely never been captured or killed. But there is another way. Warning her not to go for a walk could have prevented her from being captured, but the reason she went for a walk, the flaw in her decision, remains; she was unarmed, she was not being cautious enough, she was unprepared for danger and too shocked to attempt to save herself. If that flaw continues to be a part of her, she could be just as vulnerable in a similar 

situation in the future."

"So…you're saying…remove the flaw."

"Exactly. That is the wisdom of the elves…they give unspecific warnings that intend for one to make the right decision to prevent or enable a single event, but also carry that knowledge into the future.

"Telling Ginny she should not go into the white tree at all could have sent her into all sorts of unknown dangers at Hogwarts; telling her she should not go for a walk outside on that cold night would have saved her from that one incident. But warning her to be cautious, to never wander out into the night unprotected, to always be ready with a weapon, to always keep those stronger than her nearby…this could prevent not only her capture by Lucius Malfoy but any manner of possible situations after that event."

Harry slowly nodded his head. "I understand."

"Very good, Harry."

Harry smiled. "Seems a lot better than anything I read in Divination class."

"Ah, Divination…prophecy and its treatment in our world is certainly not so logical. In fact, in most cases it makes absolutely no sense, and it almost never helps…so many of the prophecies hailed greatest turn out, under extensive observation, to be nothing more than a prediction of the weather."

That moment, there was a loud crash of thunder, and rain began to fall from the sky.

"Although in some cases even that prediction would be quite welcome," Dumbledore commented.

"Maybe we should stop," Harry said uncertainly, glancing back at Ron, who was barely in visual range as he lagged further behind them.

"I feel as though we have not made much progress this day," Dumbledore said, shaking his head. "If discomfort is all we must suffer, then I believe it is well worth it to advance further before we turn in."

"I can hardly see where I'm going," Harry said, pulling off his glasses and wiping them on his shirt after they were hit with several raindrops.

Ron jogged up to them. "We're still going on, then?" he asked worriedly.

"Perhaps you are both correct," Dumbledore said, peering over the cliff side at the darkness below. "Stopping may be more wise…but at any rate we must find some sort of overhang which can protect us from this downpour."

"I think there was one farther back, where the rocks sort of jutted out like a roof," Ron said.

"Could you find it?" Harry asked.

Ron hesitated. "Well…it is hard to tell the way we've come…"

"We cannot turn back," Dumbledore said. "We will only find ourselves more lost…we must press onward, and…"

Dumbledore interrupted his own words with a sudden gasp. His foot had slipped on the wet surface of the rocks they were walking along; he tumbled forward, over the edge of the cliff.

Harry and Ron watched in horror as Dumbledore's body fell, his head suddenly striking a jutting rock with enough force to change the direction into which he fell, and then he disappeared into the darkness.

In just a few seconds, with just a slip of the foot, he was gone.

Ron and Harry stared silently over the edge of the cliff, mouths agape, at the tip of the jutting rock which Dumbledore's face had smashed against.

"We should have stopped," Harry said hoarsely. "We should have stopped when it started to get dark…we…"

"This isn't happening," Ron said. "This isn't…"

"He slipped…the rain made the rocks wet…he couldn't have…he couldn't have survived that…"

"He's Albus Dumbledore!" Ron shouted, and tears escaped the corners of his eyes, mingling with the rain hitting his face.

Harry was silent.

"Albus Dumbledore!" Ron repeated, as Harry slouched to the ground, sitting against a rock and covering his mouth with his hands. "Albus Dumbledore doesn't…die…not like that…no, he can't be dead…Harry, he can't be…a minute ago he was…and now…"

"He's gone."

"He slipped on a bloody rock!"

"It was dangerous…"

"Dangerous?! Lord Voldemort couldn't take him down! You're telling me…you're telling me the greatest wizard of…of the century, of…of all time maybe…that he slipped on a…"

"You saw him!" Harry cried suddenly, and he began to shake with sobs. "He slipped, that was all…he slipped and fell and smashed his head in…"

"But…" Ron started; then he shut his mouth and said nothing.

There was a long pause before Harry stood up. His mind felt numb from the shock of Dumbledore's sudden fall, but his body felt number from the chill of the oncoming night and cold rain soaking through his clothes.

"Let's go back and find that overhang," he said quietly.

Ron nodded and dumbly followed, taking one last look at the sharp rock, and the darkness into which Dumbledore had fallen.