Chapter 2

"All we have learned so far, is that he is after Thorongil and.. that he is not alone." Denethor said as he stood before his father in Minas Tirith's white hall.
"He.. or it, as it is not human… It speaks of brothers, or a brother at least." Denethor shivered unconsciously. "Father… It frightens me."

Those words made Ecthelion look up at last. So rarely did his son admit a weakness.

"It was hard enough to pull this information out of him, father. But now… it seems it has become … resistant. No matter how I hurt it, it speaks nothing else. It does not tell me where he is from, or who send him… All it ever does is ask for Thorongil." Denethor looked up at his father. "Thorongil is…at least.. I regard him as my friend" He said softly.

Ecthelion looked at his son. "Is he?" he asked.

"He is." Denethor answered, knowing why his father had sounded so doubtful. He and the dark-haired commander usually fought over the smallest things.
But Denethor did respect the man. He did like him. In fact… He did see the man as an elder brother, as much as his father saw the man as a son.
"I don't want him hurt." He said.

"Of course not." Ecthelion said, and again the steward waited.

"So.. so… Well you know how Thorongil is! If he is threatened he will ride towards the danger, confront it rather than flee. But these, these things are dangerous! And.. I fear.. I fear he will not be able to win this fight. So.. I want to ask you… If maybe you could… Make him stay? In the city?
Then I could continue the questioning. Find out as much as I can, capture the others, bring them here. They are not after me, so it will be less dangerous if I go, and..
Thorongil has saved my life so often now.. and.."

Ecthelion studied his son. "These… creatures," the steward said. "Are they really that dangerous?"

Denethor looked his father into the eyes. "Come." He said. "I'll show you."

OOOOOOOOO

Ecthelion stared at the creature as it walked back and forth in his snow covered cell, as far as the chains allowed him.

Back and forth.
Back and forth… Like a chained wild beast.

"What is this… this sorcery?' the steward whispered. "How…?"

The creature turned his head, looking straight at Ecthelion, with piercing blue eyes, cold as ice.

"Take me to Thorongil." It commanded, in a voice so lordly that Ecthelion almost left to follow the order.

But his eye fell on the beast again, and he shook his head.

Never.
Never would he allow his beast close to anyone he loved.

OOOOOOOOOO

Aragorn stared at the man in front of him with growing anger.

He respected Ecthelion, he knew the man was wise and kind. When the ranger had sworn his loyalty to the steward he had meant every word, and it had never been hard for him to follow the orders of the man whose king he could have been, had he chosen another life.
Not once had Aragorn hesitated to follow Ecthelion's orders.
Not once had he failed to do as he was asked.

But this time he would.
He would not just hide.

"I can take care of myself, Lord Ecthelion."

The Steward of Gondor sighed.
"Thorongil, my son, I know you have more courage and strength that any other man in my ranks. It is not that I think you a coward that I ask you to be careful, commander.

You have no idea what you are up against.

Trust me, son. I would send you to battle an entire fleet of corsairs if such a battle was needed, but these men you face now…
You did not see it move. Like a cat it trotted over the snow, with a stealth you would not believe, as if it floated rather than walked.
Thorongil, whatever assassins are hunting you; they are not human.
The one we caught… all we learned of him is that he has brothers that hunt you. That is all he ever talked about. Brothers."

The old man looked at his commander, the young man that fought his battles with conviction, the stranger that had become Gondor's hero in so little time. Ecthelion, like his city, loved the young man as a son.

"Please, Thorongil. I beg you. Stay out of danger this time.
Let Denethor handle this."

Aragorn sighed. "You are making me a prisoner of this city."

Ecthelion looked his commander into the eyes, and Aragorn suddenly realized the plea the old man was sending him and yielded. "... but alright. I'll do what you ask. "

And when the ranger noted the relief in his friend's eyes, he suddenly felt a small bolt of fear.
What exactly was hunting him, if it had been able to scare the old man so?

OOOOOOOOOO

The cellars were freezing and Denethor's fingertips were slowly getting too stiff to properly do their work, but he did not back up yet. He sensed he was on a break now, and their prisoner was finally giving in.

"Who are you working for?" He repeated his question. As he spoke he could see his breath, and he realized it had been a while since he had seen the same from his prisoner.

He hoped he had not killed it, not before the creature had spilt everything it knew.

Denethor was not usually in favour of torture, meaning he would never allow torture of a human being. But this prisoner was not human: It was as if someone had tried to imitate humans when he created this, and had almost succeeded. Expect for its unnatural blue eyes, and the deformed ears, the creature had been perfect. Almost too perfect.

"Who is your master?"

Most of that perfection had faded now. After a week spent in this cell the creature had started to look as ugly as its intentions. Its bright eyes were made invisible by the cloth kept over them at all times, the bruises on its face were as black as its heart, and the stripes on its back showed that whoever had been its master before, Denethor was its master now.

"Get…Tho…rongil…Get…Thorong..il…Brother…Thorngil…brother…"

It was the answer the prisoner had given every time when he was asked a question. It was all Denethor had learned so far. It was as if the creature's mission to hunt the commander with his brother was so deeply imprinted on its brain that there was no room for anything else.

Disappointed the steward's son picked up the whip again. His hands were getting cold, and he would soon have to stop, but not before he had left a fresh trail of blood to freeze on the creature's back.

He would show the monster that the people of Gondor were capable of horrors worse than Mordor. He would show every orc, wraith or whatever he came across, so that one day, one day, no orc would dare to attack his city or kill his friends.

That was his dream.

OOOOOOOOOOO

In the dark, cold prison cell, colour red with blood and white with snow, the creature called out to its brother with its thoughts.

'Hurry.' It commanded. " Hurry, brother.
Find Thorongil.
Finish what we started.

But beware of the humans.

Beware, for they are mistrusting.
Stay out of their path!'

OOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Miles away from the creature its brother heard its call.
It looked at the convoy of humans in front of it one last time.

Though the creature had thought it would have been able to talk to them, convince them to take him to the city, he now turned suddenly and disappeared.

His fleeing feet left no imprint on the cold, frozen snow.

TBC