Disclaimer: All stories, songs, plots, characters, places, poems, etc. that you recognize in this story from any of J.R.R. Tolkien's works belong strictly to J.R.R. Tolkien. I do not own any of them.
"I see you are waking now."
Fæderwynn groaned, pushing locks of dark, disheveled hair away from her eyes. "Who are you, and where am I?" she mumbled, wiping her face. I wish I was near a bath, she thought as she viewed the dirt smudged across her arms and legs. She felt grimy and disgusting and in much need of a washing.
Glancing up at the stranger nearby, she began to feel the faint traces of apprehension, a knot beginning to form in her stomach. A tall, rather handsome man towered over her at over six feet in height, following her every move with crazed, gray eyes. His wild eyes, tense body, and unkempt, reddish hair gave him the appearance of a cornered and frightened animal ready to attack. Overall, he seemed insane. He could kill me, the girl thought, slowly backing away. In one movement, the man had her cornered and pinned to the ground with no hope of escape.
"I think that is a question you will answer for me," he stated haughtily, easing his hold on Fæderwynn's arms a bit. "Who are you? The wilds of the world are not the ideal location for a maiden to wander."
Fæderwynn stared up at the man with frightened eyes, unable to speak. He seemed vaguely familiar, but the terrified princess of Gondor was unable to remember where she had seen the stranger before. He is going to kill me! her mind screamed as her body began to shake.
"Perhaps you are a spy of the enemy?" the man suggested menacingly, toying with a dagger in his left hand. Stilling, he brought the weapon to Fæderwynn's throat, suddenly hissing, "Answer me, girl! What is your purpose here?"
"M-my name is Fæderwynn," she stuttered, finally managing to speak. "I come from—" She paused, wondering how much information she should give to the strange and insane man. "I come from Gondor."
"Gondor," the man muttered, releasing the dagger. "Gondor." His eyes took on a far-away look, as though he was suddenly lost in visions of happier times and places. "Fæderwynn," he whispered, frowning. "That is no name of Gondor." Once again, the dagger was in his hands, at the girl's neck.
Frantically, Fæderwynn added, "My mother is from Rohan. All my sisters and I have names of her country."
"And your father permitted this?" the man demanded, glaring at the trapped girl. "A man of Gondor would rather his children be named in the tongues of foreign places rather than that of his own country?"
"My father was not of Gondor," the girl answered, relieved that the man's hold on her was lessening. "He simply lived there later on in life. And as to why he did not name us in the traditional style, well—" She bit her lip as memories of a dark-haired man, eyes cold and distant, standing beside— Pushing away the unwanted memories, Fæderwynn searched for the right words to phrase her father's dislike of his children without bringing him disrespect. "He was often away on matters of business for the—" She stopped, suddenly asking, "What year is it?"
The man studied the girl oddly, before answering, "It is the year 3018 of the Third Age. Do you not know your own time?"
Eyes growing wide, Fæderwynn's mind screamed, He did send me to the past! What am I going to do-- Regaining her calm, she answered herself silently, I am going to find a way to save Gondor and Arnor, if possible. And end my existence if need be.
"I am sorry," Fæderwynn apologized, quickly adding, "my Lord," hoping that this extra courtesy would somehow help to gain both her freedom and her captor's trust. "I have been alone in this place for quite sometime and have lost track of the days."
He frowned, releasing Fæderwynn's arms. "So I am not alone in my quest, then?" he asked, glancing toward the east.
Quest? Fæderwynn wondered, raising a quizzical eyebrow. Perhaps if I act as though I, too, am searching for whatever he is seeking out, he will spare my life . . . "Yes, I am also searching." Backing away from the crazed man, Fæderwynn asked, "What is it that you seek, my Lord?"
Eyeing her carefully, the man asked, "How do I know that you are no spy of the Enemy?"
"Of Sauron?" Fæderwynn questioned, regretting her words as she saw the man visibly flinch at the mention of the Dark Lord's name. "No, I am no servant of his. I come on behalf of my homeland, to postpone or end its possible destruction . . ."
The man's face visibly relaxed. "So you, too, wish to keep Gondor from falling to the hands of the Enemy?" He studied her closely, waiting for her answer.
"Uhh ... yes," she answered, swallowing nervously. "But, my Lord, what are you are searching for?"
Sighing tiredly, the man said, "The answer to a strange dream that has long plagued the sleep of one of my household." Eyeing the darkening sky, he added, "Yet, it seems as though the answer eludes me, for I have sought it for almost a year, and still found no solution." Walking toward Fæderwynn, he added, "Of what you spoke earlier . . . Whom did your father serve?"
"He served the . .. Steward," Fæderwynn lied. "That is why my mother took it upon herself to name us in her own tongue; my father was never home to counter her choice." The man continued to stare at her disbelievingly, but asked no more on the subject.
"The hour grows late, Fæderwynn . . . of Gondor," he muttered, closing his eyes tiredly. Opening them once more, he said, "As we are both seeking the same prize, would you wish to accompany me further?"
Fæderwynn's eyes grew wide at the man's request. Visions of what he could possibly do to her in the late hours of the night filled her mind, causing her arm to twitch uncontrollably. However, as the girl viewed the darkening sky, she noticed that the forest surrounding them suddenly seemed more menacing than it had previously. "Thank you, my Lord," she whispered, frowning. "I would be honored to travel with you." It is not as though I had much choice, she added silently, searching the surrounding trees for dangerous creatures.
He nodded approvingly, laying a tattered cloak haphazardly upon the ground. Within moments, he was lying on the cloak, eyes closed in sleep. Fæderwynn followed the man's example, sitting against the base of a tall tree. Closing her eyes, she listened for any sounds of the man's waking, hoping that if he attempted to rape her, she would know in advance and be able to escape. However, after only a few minutes, the exhausted princess was fast asleep.
"Wicglufað, stop singing," Fæderwynn mumbled tiredly, slowly opening her eyes. Squinting from the steady stream of sunlight pouring into her face, she almost jumped when she realized she was surrounded by forest instead of resting within the confines of her own room, back in Minis Tirith. Where am I? her mind screamed as her vision cleared and she surveyed the area about her. Remembering that she had encountered a strange man the day before, she calmed a bit, sighing exhaustedly. Moving her tongue against her teeth, she frowned at the awful taste in her mouth and at the stench of her clothes, hoping that she would not encounter anyone worth meeting. I wonder where that singing is coming from, she thought, yawning tiredly. Sensing a presence, she lifted her eyes and found herself staring straight into the face of her father's foster brother.