Chapter 9

Captain Faramir

"Hello Sam," Frodo said, stretching and yawning. He almost sat up when he remembered the sleeping Hazel on his chest. He gently set her aside and stood up. "What is the time?"

"It is a couple hours after daybreak." Sam said. "I should have this ready now. I made us some stew. Do you and Hazel some good. Especially Hazel, she seems to have caught a cold. I figured, sense we've been through two marshlands, the mountains, and the rain."

Frodo stretched and yawned once more. "You should have been resting, Sam." He said. "But I do feel hungry. Hmm! I can smell it from here! What have you stewed?"

"A present from Sméagol," Sam said. "A brace o' young coneys; though I fancy Gollum's regretting them now."

Frodo came over and sat next to Sam, smelling the stew. At that moment Hazel had awoken to the smell of the stew. She went over and joined them.

"Do we have any bowls?" She asked.

"No," Sam replied. "But we could use pans."

Sam, Hazel, and Frodo sat just within the fern-brake and ate their stew from the pans. They allowed themselves half a piece of the Elfish waybread each. It seemed a feast. Hazel placed a few twigs into the fire and watched them burn. She always had a strange fascination with fire. She never knew why.

"Whew! Gollum!" Sam called and whistled softly. "There's some left, if you want to change your mind. Come on, there's some left if you want to try stewed coney!" There was no answer. "Oh well, I suppose he's gone to find something for himself. We'll finish it."

"And then you must take some sleep," Hazel said.

"All right," Sam sighed. "How are you feeling Hazel?"

"I am no longer hungry." Hazel replied. "It's times like this I wish I focused on my cooking more."

"And how is your cold?" Sam asked.

Hazel coughed. "Cold?"

"Yes," Sam said. "You've been coughing and sneezing ever sense we left the Dead Marshes."

"Ah," Said Hazel. "So I have, well, it was nothing a little stew couldn't fix." She sighed. "If only I could make my Nanny's special soup…oh…she'd make millions for finding a cure for the common cold!"

"I remember," Sam said. "I just don't want you to get sick-"

"Now Sam," Hazel said strictly. "I will not get sick, especially not after the stew you made."

"Hazel," Sam argued. "Stop acting brave-"

"Hush!" Frodo whispered. "I thought I heard voices."

Sam quickly put out the fire as Hazel and Frodo crept forward and looked out into the distance. A strange army of men were marching across the land. Hazel tapped Frodo and pointed across the field.

"Look! Sam, come quick! Nobody back home is going to believe this!" Hazel whispered. "It's an Oliphaunt!"

"Wow," Sam whispered. "This might be a silly question, but do you remember anything about Oliphaunts?"

Hazel stood up, putting her hands behind her back (as she always did when 'speaking poetry') and began.

"Good memory!" Sam said when she finished.

"Actually," Hazel blushed. "I wrote that, you see, I read about Oliphaunts so I wrote a poem to help me remember. Not that I would forget, but it's more fun this way."

"That was wonderful Hazel," Frodo said. "But I can hear more voices, I think we should hide."

The three hobbits trussed their small packs, put them on ready for fight, and then crawled deeper into the fern. There they crouched listening.

There was no doubt of the voices. They were speaking low and furtively, but they were near, and coming nearer. Then quite suddenly one spoke clearly close at hand.

"Here! Here is where the smoke came from!" He said. "In the fern no doubt. We shall have it like a coney in a trap. Then we shall learn what kind of thing it is."

"Aye, and what it knows." A second voice said.

At once four men came striding through the fern from different directions. Since flight and hiding were no longer possible, the three hobbits sprang to their feet, putting back to back and whipping out their small swords, Hazel, a frying pan.

They were astonished by what they saw; their captors were even more astonished (particularly by Hazel). Four tall Men stood there, all with a sword. Two had shields and spears, the other two had bows and arrows. Their eyes were very keen and bright, and at once, Frodo thought of Boromir, for these men were like him in stature and bearing, and in their manner of speech.

"We have not found what we sought," One of them said. "But what have we found?"

"Not Orcs," Another said, noticing Sting in Frodo's hand.

"Elves?" A third said doubtfully.

"Nay, not Elves!" The forth said, he was the tallest, and as it appeared the chief amoung them. "Elves do not walk in Ithilien these days. And Elves are wondrous, and fair to look upon, or so it is said."

"Meaning we're not, I take you." Hazel said bravely, surprising the Men even more. "Thank you kindly. And when you have finished discussing us, perhaps you'll say who you are, and why you can't let three tired travelers rest."

The tall man laughed grimly. "I am Faramir, Captain of Gondor" He said, kneeling down to Hazel's level. "But there are no travelers in this land: only the servants of the Dark Tower, or the White."

"But we are neither." Frodo reassured.

"And travelers we are, whatever Captain Faramir may say!" Hazel chipped in.

"Then who are you and what is your errand?" Faramir said. "And tell us, where is the forth of your company?"

"The forth?" Frodo asked.

"Yes, the skulking one, he had an ill-favored look."

"I do not know where he is." Frodo admitted. "We had only met him recently. We actually set out from Rivendell with eight other companions. One we lost in Moria, two of my kin; one of Hazel's kin; a dwarf there was also and an elf, and two men. There were Aragorn and Boromir, who said that he came out of Minas Tirith, a city in the south."

"Boromir!" All four men exclaimed.

"You came with him?" Faramir asked, placing a desperate hand on Frodo's shoulder. "That is news indeed, if it be true. Know, little strangers, that Boromir son of Denethor was High Warden of the White Tower, and our Captain-General. Sorely do we miss him. Who are you then, and what had you to do with him? Be swift, for the Sun is climbing!"

"We are Halfings from the Shire." Frodo said.

"So my eyes do not trick me," Faramir said. "What are your names?"

"I am Frodo Baggins, these are Samwise Gamgee and Hazel Goodchild." Frodo continued.

"We must learn more of this." Faramir said. "And we should know what brings you this Far East under the shadow yonder-" He pointed and said no name. "But not now. We have business at hand. You are in peril, and you would have not gone far by field or road this day."

"So we've noticed." Hazel said. "We saw the Oliphaunts." Faramir stared at her in surprise by her intelligence, but he continued to speak.

"There will be hard handstrokes nigh at hand ere this day is full. Then death, of swift flight back to Anduin. I will leave two to guard you, for your good and for mine. Wise man trusts not to chance-meeting on the road in this land. If I return, I will speak more with you."

"Thank you Captain," Hazel said, curtsying.

"Farewell," Frodo said. "I think that you will; and may the light shine on your swords!"

"The Halflings are courteous folk, whatever else they be." Faramir said. "Farewell!" He left with one, while the other two remained, also giving their names: Mablung and Damrod.

The two guards were still fascinated with Hazel. For hobbits looked like children to the race of men, so you can imagine what Hazel appeared as: A little girl (but don't tell her I said that). Mablung couldn't help but wonder about Hazel, as she pulled out her book from Galadriel and began to read. Damrod and the boys were having their own conversation.

"I must ask," Mablung said. "What manners do they teach?"

"Whatever do you mean?" Hazel said, looking up from her book. "I have plenty of manners."

"They seem poor," Mablung admitted. "You know the gentleman speaks before the lady."

"I always have spoken first," Hazel admitted. "When my friends lose their words."

"But you should always speak, when spoken to." Mablung continued.

"I think that's stupid." Hazel said. "I always speak, when I want to."

Mablung stood amazed at the young girl. He was impressed by her wits and intellect. He shook his head and pitied the fool who got on her bad side, for they would not outsmart her.

The battle continued, and it seemed to have migrated toward the group, for Hazel could now hear it. Then suddenly straight over the rim of their sheltering bank, a man fell, crashing through the trees. He was a man of the enemy, and for some reason, Hazel was grateful for that.

But she was also sad.

She wondered what the man's name was and where he came from; and if he was really evil at heart, or what lies or threats had led him on the long march from his home; and if he would have preferred to stay there…in peace.

Author's note: The Oliphant Poem is from the Two Towers book. It belongs to Tolkien. A Character like Hazel would definitely use poems and words to help her remember it. It's in the book. It's a good poem.