A/N: Presenting Chapter 10, in which Éomer is NOT worried, Amrothos is brilliant, and Éowyn shares a line with Eilonwy from the Prydain Chronicles (it wasn't intentional...she MADE me put it in!).

Chapter 10

The sun was high in the sky when Éomer spotted the three strangers.

They had been searching for the three missing young people since first light—fruitlessly. Everyone had hoped that they'd merely gone out for a ride and stayed in a village over the night, or gotten lost in the hills or such like, but after a thorough combing of each village in the area and several sweeps of the nearby hillsides, Éomer came to the conclusion that it was all no good.

"Blast that girl," he kept saying to himself. "I'll get her for this one. She'll be up to her neck in needlework and tapestries—and mending, and…and whatever else that women do that Éowyn refuses to take part in."

He let out his breath in a huff and ran a hand through his sweaty mane. "Curse you, Éowyn. When we find you, I'll…I'll…"

"You really are worried about her, aren't you?" asked a voice from his right. Éomer turned in the saddle to glare at his cousin, Theodred.

"You do not know, Theo, how fortunate you are not to have such a cursed piece of bad luck as a sister. All they do is get into scrapes—into mischief—and then expect you to get them back out of it again, safe and sound. Ugh."

Éomer found, to his dismay, that his eyes were watering. He growled a curse and wiped at them angrily, muttering about the light and the dust and the wind.

"If she's not all right, I'm going to kill her."

Theodred snorted and wheeled his horse off to the left. Éomer watched him go, and glanced over to the right, down toward the rocky valley between two hills. And then he looked again, because something—or someone—was moving down there.

It wasn't Boromir, nor his uncle, for they had decided to search further to the north. And it wasn't any of the Rohirrim, for they were all behind or further left with Theodred. Squinting, Éomer nudged his mare forward so he could draw nearer to the moving things and see what they were. In less than a minute he could make out the shapes of three men—all stocky and dressed in dark, ragged clothing. He shouted for Theodred (feeling a keen disappointment because it wasn't the missing three after all) and then wheeled toward them.

"Who are you?" Éomer asked, drawing his mare to a stop before the three men. "And what is your business in the Mark?"

The shortest man exchanged a look with one of the others, and then looked up at him with a curious look in his beady eyes.

"Well now, cub. No need to be rude to yer elders. Ye wouldn't happen to know the way to the nearest village, would ye?"

Éomer hefted his spear, though he didn't lower it, and glared at the man steadily.

"I asked you first. Who are you?"

The man grunted and raised a greasy eyebrow.

"A hunter. A hungry hunter."

"No success today, then?" Éomer asked impudently, feeling devilishly pleased because making a joke, even at another's expense, helped ease the frustration he felt. "You wouldn't happen to have seen two young men and a girl anywhere around these parts, would you?"

There was a flash of surprise on the small man's face.

"Yer lookin' for 'em?"

A furious joy flashed through Éomer's veins like brandy. He drew a quick breath and almost dropped the spear in his excitement.

"Then you have seen them?"

The thundering of hoof beats approached, and Theodred drew his horse to a halt beside his cousin. The hunter looked from Éomer to the prince and back again, and said, with a grin, "Indeed, I 'ave. And I might tell ye about our encounter for a good warm meal and some ale."

Three chickens and a pint of ale later...

"So you actually found and spoke with the children," Prince Imrahil asked, leaning forward to watch the greasy little man as he ate.

"That's righ'," Farothul agreed with a nod. "Two lads and a lass. Friendly cubs, they was. Though right stubborn when it came to tellin' us where we were."

"An underground cavern system, you said?" Boromir repeated thoughtfully, fingering the handle of a mug that was still half full of ale.

"Tunnels," Farothul confirmed, taking another bite energetically. "Enough to make yer head spin."

"But how would they get into these tunnels in the first place?" Theodred asked from where he relaxed against a bench, taking a long draw on his pipe. "Surely there's not an opening in Edoras itself."

Éomer was pacing back and forth across the tavern floor, while the tavern-mistress watched him nervously.

"Is there time for all this discourse!" he half-shouted at last, turning on the group at the table and slamming his fist on the wood violently. "My sister is out there somewhere, cold and frightened because she's lost in the dark, and we're just going to sit around listening to this man repeat himself in the next-to-nothing that he's told us."

"Your sister is not the only one lost, lad," Imrahil snapped (which surprised Boromir, because it was quite unlike his uncle to snap). "But rushing madly head-on into a dangerous situation will do more harm than good."

Éomer lowered his eyes out of respect for the older man, but resumed his restless pacing.

"I say we should enter the caves where Farothul and his men got out," Boromir said. He was just as eager as Éomer to find their lost relations, but he'd grown used to keeping a cool head in most situations, and he knew that Faramir would expect nothing less of him in this one.

"You said that the children were captives?" Imrahil pressed firmly. "Captives of whom?"

"I told ye, sir, I don't rightly know!" Farothul exclaimed with his mouth half-full. "'e wouldn't give me 'is name. But 'e had plenty of men down there—that's for certain."

"We'll have to take the Guard, then," Boromir remarked thoughtfully. "And as many men as Rohan can spare."

"I swear," Éomer said under his breath, still pacing, "when I get my hands on Éowyn, I'll teach her what it means to be in trouble."

"Prince Theodred?" Boromir asked, respectfully deferring to his elder in age and station. The man nodded, and Boromir turned to Imrahil. "Uncle?"

Imrahil glared at his cup for a long, long moment, and then sighed.

"I knew it would be Amrothos, of all my offspring, that would drive me to drinking." He took a swig of ale and then wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "What's your plan, Boromir?"

"He's the one!" Éowyn exclaimed as soon as the guards had moved far enough away that they could not hear her whisper. "I knew I wasn't imagining things!"

Amrothos, who was helping Faramir lean against a smooth rock on the ground, gave her a look that said he was thinking quite the opposite.

"What are you talking about, Éowyn?" Faramir asked, wearily rubbing the rope-burns on his wrists and trying not to wince as the bones moved in his arm.

"The horse-nappings!" the girl hissed after glancing at the guards to make sure they weren't listening. One was leaning against his spear and looking bored, while the other was standing at attention and looking attentive but wouldn't for long. "The disappearances…I knew there was something afoot. They must have dug a tunnel and then stolen the horses through the hole we fell through in the stables!"

"A lot of good knowing all that does us now," Amrothos said crossly. "In case you haven't noticed, we're kind of stuck down here."

"Someone," Éowyn whispered, leaning forward until the three of their heads almost touched, "has got to escape. To tell Uncle and everyone where we are."

"That doesn't seem exactly very possible right now, Éowyn," remarked Faramir. He leaned back against the cool stone and eyed the guards thoughtfully. Perhaps if his arm was not injured…oh, his head did ache! He closed his eyes and stifled a moan.

"And why do you think these people are connected to your precious horse-nappings?" Amrothos put in with a glower at the girl. "For all we know, they're a whole other group."

"But they're not!" Éowyn insisted, so vehemently that one of the guards, the one who was leaning on his spear, turned and looked at them curiously. "I know they're not!"

"And how do you know that?" Amrothos snapped.

"Because," Éowyn said, tossing her hair back and giving him a full glare. "I recognized that horse we met coming through the tunnels."

Faramir opened his eyes and gave her a sharp look.

"You recognized the horse?"

With a nod, Éowyn continued.

"His name was Sul. He belonged to my cousin, but just disappeared one day from the stables. As a matter of fact, a lot of horses have been disappearing from the stables. Éomer thinks it's just a prank, but I knew it was something more."

"But why these people?" Amrothos asked. "I mean, aren't you just jumping to conclusions…again? What if this "Sul" ran away…and then these people caught him from the wild?"

"There's something else to your idea, isn't there?" Faramir said, perhaps seeing the glimmer of thought in the steel-gray eyes.

"Do you remember," Éowyn began ponderingly, "When we first fell into the tunnels and we were wandering around? Someone yelled 'Quick, that way! We mustn't let them see the beasts—Mordeth will have our heads!' It was just before Gollum grabbed my arm—before we were caught by Farothul and his men."

"Yes…" Faramir replied with a slow nod. "Yes, I do remember that."

"So you think the man we saw was Mordeth? And the beasts they were talking about were stolen horses?" Amrothos finished, shaking his head. "I don't know. It doesn't make sense."

"Why would this Mordeth be stealing horses from the Stables of Rohan?" Faramir asked. The question hung in the air like a thundercloud, and at last Éowyn shrugged.

"I don't know. It seems like a pretty big operation. But there's a missing piece—the motive." She stared at nothing for a minute or so, but then shook herself out of it. "But whether these men are the horse-thieves I've been looking for or not, we still need to tell Uncle—both our uncles, and your father," she added to Amrothos, "where we are."

"I suppose we could try an escape," Amrothos admitted. "They're not likely to let us go alive anyway—and if we could tell someone where we were—,"

"But what if the attempt fails and they kill us for trying?" Faramir interrupted, shifting his weight and glancing at the guards again. "Can we really risk it?"

Amrothos shrugged.

"We know they won't kill Éowyn, especially when they can turn her in for a ransom. As for us…well, I'm not afraid to die. And they might not kill us."

"Amrothos of Dol Amroth!" Éowyn exclaimed, a bit loudly because her face was turning red and her eyes were aflame with fury. "I did not suggest—," she halted instantly as she realized both guards had turned to stare, smiled at them, and then continued in a much softer but no less angry voice, "that we try anything simply because I know I would be in no danger. I'm just as willing to risk my life as you are."

"Your willingness has nothing to do with it," Amrothos replied, turning a bit red in the face as well. "It's the simple fact of the matter. Only Faramir and I will have anything to lose."

Éowyn's mouth opened and worked as though she was searching for the right words, but at last she closed it again with a snap, glaring daggers at the fair-haired youth who was glaring daggers at her, declared, "Amrothos of Dol Amroth, I am not speaking to you," and turned her back to him as deliberately as she could.

As Amrothos stared, bewildered, Faramir let out a long sigh. Stubborn. Lothiriel, his cousin and Amrothos' sister, was never this stubborn, though he had no doubt that she could be if she tried. Then something else occurred to him, and he put his head in his one good hand and sighed again.

"Well done, you two. Now they know one of our names."

Amrothos groaned; Eowyn's back stiffened, and although she did not turn, Faramir noticed that her ears had gone red with embarrassment.

"Supposing," Amrothos said quietly, "that we all try to escape at once. Éowyn could distract the guards and then we could knock them out and run toward the exit, or even split up. That way one of us might get through."

Faramir knew in his heart that he would not escape, not with the condition he was in, but decided against saying so. After all, unless they tried they would probably die anyway.

"If I was speaking to you," Éowyn stated coldly, "I would tell you that I'm just as capable as you both at knocking someone out. But I'm not. Speaking to you, I mean."

"So should we just ignore you, then?" Faramir teased. Princess Éowyn did not deign to reply, but remained silent and stiff.

"It's worth a chance, isn't it?" Amrothos asked Faramir. "Escaping, I mean?"

"If only we knew where the exit was, it would be," Faramir admitted with a frown. "But we haven't even the foggiest idea of that."

"Aha," said Amrothos, raising an eyebrow and smiling, "but we do."

And that's when he pulled the crumpled piece of parchment from his pocket.

"What's that?" Faramir asked, reaching for it and trying to see what it said. Even Éowyn craned her head to look—without turning around, of course.

"It's a map," Amrothos whispered, looking mischievously pleased. "Snitched it while we were in that room and that—that Mordeth was talking to the Gollum Hunters. See? That's the exit—right there!"

"If," Éowyn said suddenly, "I was speaking to you, I might say that it's about time you did something useful."

"All right," Faramir added after a moment, somewhat reluctantly. "We'll try it—as soon as we can explain the plan to her highness who will be left out of said plan if she doesn't return to speaking terms with us very quickly."

Eowyn whirled around, eyes fiery but lips clenched and raised an eyebrow at him.

"I'll speak to you. But not him. Just tell me what to do."

So Faramir leaned in until their heads were almost touching and told them.

TBC...