A/N: Last night I was up at 2 because
THE VOYAGE OF THE DAWN TREADER TRAILER IS OUT!
Go watch it on youtube or something. It'll be out December 10th. Go Narnia.
Thank you to all my reviewers! This chapter's cliffhanger isn't really a cliffhanger...but there's still plenty of tension going on. Enjoy...
Chapter 7
Éowyn felt a shudder coming as she continued to back away from the three men who were staring her down. Faramir laid a hand on her arm and said to the men, "You are hunters of this 'Gollum', then?"
"In a manner o' speaking," muttered Grum, but stopped when Farothul shot him a glare.
"Just point us toward the tunnel's exit, if ye please, cubs," the short man said to the three. "Are we still in Lossarnach, then? Or have we gone further north than we'd reckoned?"
When none of the young people replied, he pointed his sword at Amrothos.
"Ye—the talkative one. Where'd we come up if we dug a hole to the surface?"
Amrothos glanced at first Faramir, then Éowyn. They both shook their heads 'no', so he did the same, except at the man on the other side of the sword.
"What, all ye know is curses?" Farothul sighed and shifted his gaze to Faramir. "And ye—the tall one. Ye're older than the other cubs. Surely ye wouldn't mind helping out another man in need. I can offer payment—it's not much, but it's more than a day's wages, I can tell ye that."
Faramir did not answer, even to reply that he had no need for twenty days' wages—much less merely one. With a scowl, the man looked down at Éowyn.
"Then ye, pretty one. If one of ye doesn't speak up soon, I'll 'ave to start usin' this sharp pointy object, much as I'd regret it."
"When I say," whispered Faramir so that only Amrothos and Éowyn could hear, "run to the left."
Farothul grew angrier still when no one answered.
"Per'aps swords don't scare ye, then. Is fire more like it, cubs?" he snarled, snatching the torch out of Grum's hand. "Do ye yield, or must I burn the truth out of ye?"
He stepped forward yet again, and the tension suddenly became to much to bear. Faramir felt again the whisper of wind coming from the left, and shouting, "NOW!" he turned and fled toward the fresh air.
With each step he took on the rough stones, the greater was the pain that flooded through his broken arm. He clutched it tightly to his chest to minimize the jarring, but it was no good. At last he just gritted his teeth and staggered on as best as he could. Éowyn and Amrothos were fast runners, and a few strides ahead of him, but Éowyn seemed to be stumbling slightly as she ran.
There was no light to guide them, for of course they'd put out their torch, but Faramir could hear their pursuers shouting as they followed close on their heels. Just as a stitch was beginning in his side, he heard a yelp from ahead (it sounded like Amrothos) and then hit something very hard and very solid. It seemed to be a rock wall—and that meant a dead end.
"There's no way out!" Éowyn's voice whimpered from the darkness to his right. "It's all rock to the right!"
"And to the left," Amrothos replied gloomily.
Faramir felt a spike of alarm. He had felt the wind, hadn't he? Or had it been a mere illusion, a hallucination brought on by pain and the blackness surrounding them? Whatever it had been, it did not matter now: they were trapped.
A light appeared behind them, and the three turned as one to face Farothul and his men. The short man grinned nastily, brandishing his weapon, and said, "Ye see, my cubs? There is no escape from the Hunter."
Faramir and Amrothos both drew their swords—Faramir awkwardly, with his left hand. Éowyn stayed well behind the two boys, feeling around in the hopes of finding a loose rock on the ground or wall, but coming up with nothing in the way of a weapon.
"Now, cubs," said Farothul a little more gently than before. "There's no need to fight. We only want to get to the surface—like ye, I'll be bound."
Faramir nodded at the torch that Grum held in his beefy fist.
"You mentioned 'burning answers out of us'? How if we are as lost as you, sir, and there are no answers to be burned?"
The man laughed, though it was obviously a forced laugh.
"Aw, cub. Ye didn't think I meant it, now, did ye? It was only a bit of fun."
The man-whose-name-they-did-not-know was moving forward slowly, and, unable to bear the tension any longer, Amrothos dove at him with his sword. Moving so swiftly that Éowyn hardly saw the movement in the torchlight, the man twisted out of the way, grabbed Amrothos by the arm, and half-threw him into the rock wall. After holding him there for a moment, the man wrested the sword away from the son of Imrahil and held it to Amrothos' own throat.
"Give in, cub," growled Farothul to Faramir, whose mind was working overtime in trying to find a solution to this mess they seemed to have gotten into. "Make any move of attack and yer friend gets to know the edge of the blade a little better than he would, perhaps, like."
Amrothos was trembling (with fury, most likely) and his teeth were bared in a feral snarl of frustration. His eyes said, "Don't listen to them! Hack your way to freedom, cousin, and never mind me." But Faramir knew better than that. He looked at Éowyn, who kept glancing back and forth between him and Amrothos, and then moved to hand her his sword. His cousin caught his breath as the blade penetrated the skin of his neck, and a dark stream of blood appeared.
"Drop it, cub," Farothul said in a low voice. "The gel's no prize when it comes to looks, but I'd wager she's handier with that blade than we'd like."
Faramir's sword clattered on the ground, echoed by a furious gasp from Éowyn. No prize when it comes to looks indeed! The man who was holding Amrothos and Farothul exchanged a look, and then the man pulled the sword from Faramir's cousin's throat and flung him toward Éowyn and Faramir.
The nameless man held the two torches while Grum bound their wrists tightly in front of them. Faramir gritted his teeth when the man reached him, but instead of being rough with his broken arm, Grum tied his hands very gently, and a little farther apart than the others.
"Y'see, cub," said Farothul when Grum was through. "We don't mean ye any harm. Give us no trouble and we'll have no reason to hurt ye."
The third man spoke up unexpectedly in their favor as Grum tied another line through each of their bonds, so as to link them together.
"Why don't we let 'em go, Faro? They're just kids—and as lost as we. We'll have to share our food, and travel is slower with prisoners."
"Ah, Djem. The voice of reason and logic," Farothul muttered under his breath. Then louder, "Because, Djem. They've seen us now—and they know our plans. And if they can't lead us out, perhaps they can lead us to Gollum. The gel's reaction seemed a little…" he paused and leered at Éowyn, "…suspicious."
The three young people remained silent, and Farothul let out a quiet growl.
"They know something. And they'll tell us, too—as soon as their bellies start to groan."
The conversation seemed closed at that point. Farothul told Grum to mind the prisoners, and the other man, Djem, to come behind. He, Farothul, was to lead, and as he marched ahead, greasy hair gleaming in the yellow torchlight, Éowyn wondered just what exactly this man was.
An eerie silence hung about the dark walls of the tunnel as the six marched onward. Farothul, Grum, and Djem seemed to be listening—probably for Gollum, Éowyn thought with a shudder.
Perhaps, she thought, if we tell them that we did see Gollum, they'll let us go free. Perhaps they'll even help us find our way back.
She didn't know why she was refusing to tell the greasy man about that strange, grasping creature. She certainly wasn't protecting it because she felt she and it were on the same side, but all the same, there was such a pitiful look in its eyes…perhaps she could tell later, when it had a chance to escape. Nothing should die trapped in the darkness. Not even Gollum.
They stopped after about three hours of stumbling through the corridors of blackness, lit only by the sweet gleam of the torches. Djem built a small fire using some black rocks that Éowyn had never seen before, but that Faramir and Amrothos had seen used. Grum checked the ropes on their hands, and then tied the rope that held them all together to a tall stone that had white streaks going down it—bat dung, Farothul told them with a toothy grin.
Then Grum took out a pot from his satchel, walked off a ways, and then returned with the vessel full of water.
"An underground stream," Faramir whispered to the other two. "The water is said to be highly mineralized—but drinkable."
Grum set the water to boiling, in the meantime adding bits of what looked like meat and vegetables to the pot. The 'vegetables' he used were mushrooms, which he brought back at the same times at the water, and several tall strands of a weedy-looking moss that was growing on the wall of the cave. Éowyn's stomach turned at the thought of eating moss, but her appetite returned as her nose met with a very pleasant odor, not unlike that of roasting potatoes.
She glanced at the boys. Both of their gazes were locked on the kettle and spoon—especially when Grum began pouring the stuff into little pewter bowls. One of their stomach's grumbled, and Farothul glanced their way.
"Hungry, are we cubs?"
Faramir looked deliberately away, but Amrothos seemed fascinated by the steaming stew. Éowyn's stomach convulsed—how long had it been since dinner?—and she licked her lips and cleared her throat.
"Perhaps we could make some sort of pact."
Farothul's eyes jerked away from the boys and lit upon her, and he grinned.
"So, it's the girl who's the leader of the lost cubs." Éowyn glared at him. "Hunger is a powerful thing, ain't it?"
"You see, sir," Éowyn continued, ignoring the man, "if I were allowed a few words in private with my friends, we might be willing to reveal to you a few things you might…wish to know."
Farothul exchanged a look with Grum and Djem and shook his head for reply.
"No. Ye'll come up with some lie to get yer bellies full."
"I give you my word as a warrior—" Farothul let out a growling rumble of laughter that the Lady of Rohan graciously ignored, "that we will tell you only the truth."
"Yer word…" he scoffed, then glanced at Faramir and raised an eyebrow. "Ye, lad. Ye give yer word?"
Faramir hesitated, but jerked a nod.
"Aye," and then, "Though, I assure you, the lady's word is as good as mine."
Éowyn braced herself for more amused laughter, but felt a flash of surprise when Farothul merely nodded musingly.
"Hmm. I'll not doubt it next time, then." He stared hard at Faramir for a good minute, and then jerked his head. "One minute. And then I'll expect some answers."
TBC...