This is the next chapter. There's a lot of dialogue and thinking in Garan's point of view. Just read.
Stupid jailer! I thought I could possibly come to get his help! Obviously I was wrong about that!
Threwen silently fumed at the way the jailer had oh so politely asked for her to just hand over her dagger. And then he had winked at her! He was smart, that was true, but he wasn't smart enough to know that she was there to deliver an important message to Gandalf, from the very king of Rohan himself! And, at that point in time, it looked as if it would never be delivered!
Boom!
A stone wall or tower of Minas Tirith must've taken another hit from the catapults, judging by the sound of the city's most recent shudder. Threwen had sensed the fear that emanated through the place when she was being dragged through its streets by her captor. And she knew that this was not a good sign. The men needed strength, needed courage, to stand up to the armies of Mordor. She didn't think they would win but at least they could die trying!
I wonder when that pesky jailer will come back. I would like to have another word with him! More than that, if I have my way!
Threwen couldn't help but pout at her current situation. She wanted out of that cell! But how? She needed the jailer's help.
Wait! That's it!
The young woman suddenly realized exactly what she could do to get herself out of that room and on the way to Gandalf. She looked around for something that she could use to get his attention. She needed him to come back in the room and the sooner, the better. Her eyes alighted on the wooden bench that was situated beneath the window.
Perfect.
Garan jumped at the sound of a crash coming from the hall of rooms where the prisoners were kept. He wondered what in the world could cause such a sound. For a moment he was worried something had happened as a result of the battle that seemed to be growing louder and more dangerous with each passing minute. Garan knew they were higher up in the city and had more time before things started too serious for he, himself. The battle, he guessed, would mostly occur below, in the lower parts of the city, and in the fields of Pelennor.
Momentarily, Garan was alarmed about the possibility that some prisoners would escape through a hole blown in the wall by a piece of flying debris. By then, as he was traveling down the corridor, he realized that the sound had come from the female prisoner's cell. He sighed and became wary. He knew that she was probably a lot cleverer than she wanted him to think. But he figured he would catch her at her own game.
It's a trap. Keep your head, Garan.
The jail keeper was cautious as he peered in the door. He wanted to make sure that she wasn't waiting for him to open the door so she could hit him on the head with the wooden stool. But all he saw was the wooden bench knocked askew and a leg.
A leg?
Garan opened the door and gasped. The woman was on the floor, unconscious!
"Threwen?" he asked, kneeling down next to her, shaking her gently. He was a little concerned because she really did look like she was unconscious, but he was careful, as he did not totally trust her.
The young woman stirred and in a groggy voice tried to ask what happened. "Wh…Wha?"
Garan righted the bench and helped her sit down on it, saying, "It looks like you fell off the bench or something."
Threwen rubbed her thigh which she seemed to have fallen on and then said slowly, "Yes, I remember standing on the bench to look out the window and then I felt like I was losing my balance and I don't remember anything after that."
"Were you wondering about the battle?" the man asked quietly.
Threwen nodded. She looked around and rubbed her shoulders, as if cold. "May I ask you a question, jailer?"
"Call me Garan."
She raised an eyebrow and then nodded. "Do you like being a jailer? I mean, you lock up people for a living, Garan."
She pointed this out as if it didn't seem like something he would do. Garan started to catch on what she was planning but decided to watch what she'd do.
"Well, my father was the jailer before me and he was known for being fair and treating his prisoners the way they deserved. It's kind of like a strange family business, if you will." He smiled.
Threwen seemed to contemplate this and then asked, "But what if you accidentally imprisoned someone who was innocent?"
Ah, so she's going to try and make me guilty, isn't she?
Garan stroked his chin as if thinking about it, then replied by saying, "Since that has yet to happen to my knowledge, it remains a 'what if' to me. The prisoners have always gotten the punishment that fit the evidence and the crime. Some may have been imprisoned unjustly but that would not be my fault. I am not their judge."
He could almost see her frustration towards him. She concealed it well but she obviously knew he had caught on to what she was getting at. She was going to try and get him to feel bad about imprisoning a poor woman who might not be guilty.
Boom!
They both listened to the sound and then she tried another approach.
"Have you ever seen a battle, Garan?" she asked, trying to seem a little frightened.
Garan caught on to that one just as quick. The point was to try and get him to want to fight so he would trust her enough to watch the prisoners while he was gone. It was a plan good enough to fool a fool but little else. She was rather desperate.
"Nah, and I don't really want to." He couldn't help but smirk at her scowl.
"Look, I need to get out of here. I came here to deliver a message to Gandalf from King Théoden and then that soldier, Rhadoc, accused me of treason, claiming he'd seen me before, and now I'm in here. I have a duty! Gandalf needs that message!" She was practically stomping her foot.
Now that's different. She not only didn't use subtleties on me, she's supposedly a messenger for the King of Rohan.
"Then you are the keeper of an important thing," Garan said carefully. "Maybe you should have me or another soldier deliver it for you."
She simply stared at him briefly and then shouted, "Why can't I deliver it? It's my job! I'm not here to spy. I'm here to deliver it! And now you're keeping me in here for no reason!"
"I can't let you out because according to Rhadoc you're a traitor. He says he saw you riding to the enemy with a message right after they were defeated in an attempt to win back Osgiliath. That was before Lord Boromir, son of the Steward, regained the ruined city. Now, if he's right, that means you are indeed a messenger but for a different master." Garan studied her and then asked, "Are you a traitor?"
"No," she said through clenched teeth.
"Okay," was Garan's simple reply. He quickly asked another question. "Are you a liar?"
Her scowl got worse and she opened her mouth to respond. But Garan stopped her first.
"Now remember, if you are a liar, then you'll lie and say no. However, you could be an honest person and say no, you honestly aren't. Or, if you're an honest liar, you could actually say yes, that you are a liar." He sighed. "I suppose that makes it hard for me to decide. I'll probably just have to judge you by your eyes. The eyes are the windows into the soul, you know."
The young woman closed her mouth because she looked thoroughly confused. She sat for a moment, trying to understand his words. Finally the light seemed to come on in her head but when she didn't respond at all, even though she comprehended his meaning, Garan knew her answer.
"So I guess I can't really believe you when you say you aren't a traitor." He gazed at her, trying to figure out what she was thinking. She was hard to predict.
She took a deep breath and said, "I can honestly say that I am not here as a traitor to spy on the people of Minas Tirith. I am simply here to deliver the message to Gandalf." She sat for a second and then added, "And a message to the half-ling that came with him."
Garan studied her, knowing that she chose her words carefully. "But you do not deny the allegations laid against you concerning your involvement with the orcs at Osgiliath? Does that mean you were there?" He had risen from the bench and was walking around the room, piecing things together. "And if that is the case, how can I trust you? How do I know that you weren't a spy back in Rohan? Maybe you asked for this task so that you could escape to the forces of Mordor and therefore be protected."
The young woman simply stared at him, her face only showing that she was taking in everything. But he did notice that she had a rather defiant look in her eye. He continued his theorizing and his strides.
"Or maybe," he said, "That you used to work with the enemy but don't anymore. Maybe you turned from your ways and your delivering this message is sort of a way of trying to cover what you did. Maybe now you're working for the king to make up for it because you're guilty."
He had stopped his pacing in front of her and watched as a slight change came over her eyes but it only lasted a second and then they became as hard as a piece of jade.
Well, well. It looks like we know the truth now, don't we? The eyes are the windows into the soul.
He noticed that they had been staring at each other for a while. He broke away and resumed his route around the room and ended his speculating.
"Or, perhaps, you are completely innocent. If that is the case, I am sincerely sorry." But he knew exactly what she had done.
So she used to work the enemy. She probably did deliver that message to Osgiliath but isn't doing that sort of thing anymore. And now she has a guilt complex.
Garan stopped in front of her again, looked at her, and then sat down next to her. She still stared ahead, her back straight. Momentarily they just sat there, him smiling to himself that he knew her little secret, or at least some of it, and her gazing at the door, as if she could will it open.
Finally he said quietly, "Threwen, you know I can't let you out. I know that you did something. And with that knowledge I can't trust you."
She slowly turned toward him and he saw that there was despair in her eyes. It caught him off guard because he had not expected to see such an emotion displayed so plainly in those green eyes.
"You don't understand," she said, her voice slightly shaky. "I have to deliver that message!"
Garan looked at her and then asked, "What is the message?"
"I need to tell Gandalf that the army of Rohan is coming to aid them!"
"What good would that do? They lit the beacons. I'm sure that they assume they are coming."
Threwen sighed. "But the men need hope. They need courage to keep fighting. If they know that their allies are coming, they will fight harder, I'm sure!"
Garan shook his head. "We cannot win this battle by hope. Even if Rohan comes, the armies of Mordor are too strong. You are delivering a false hope."
She looked back at the door, but not as if she was looking at a door. She was looking at something else that Garan couldn't see. "Not a false hope. A faint hope. It is something to cling to."
He watched her some more and then it dawned on him. "Oh, I understand. You feel like you have to deliver it because it will prove your loyalty to the King. You feel like doing this proves that you're willing to help. Am I right?"
She didn't respond and simply continued staring. Garan sighed and got up from the bench. The conversation was over. He needed to think about the wisest decision in this one. She was right about the message bringing some hope to the troops. But it seemed a rather useless message now and if Rhadoc knew that he had released her, he would be furious. Garan didn't know if he wanted to risk his job or worse for this mysterious woman who had shown up at his jail that day. He sighed again as he walked down the hallway.
I need something to drink.
Aha! Now Garan knows her secret, or part of it. Will she tell him her story? Or does she have something else planned? I suppose you have to wait until the next chapter to hear Threwen's feelings on the conversation. I appreciate comments, if you want to give 'em.
