Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings, its characters, and its lands belong to Tolkein Estates and New Line Cinemas. This story was written for my enjoyment and my readers'; not for profit.

WARNINGS: General angst and worry. Rated K.

Chapter Ten- A Plan Revealed

A few days had passed since Damrod's arrival. Aragorn had grown stronger, though still weak from his ill treatment, and now joined the rangers around the table. Malborn had decided not to speak of the highwaymen yet, while the King's wounds were still healing, so as not to worry him too much; though he was as eager as Damrod was to begin the mission.

But Aragorn did not know that, and he was irritated that they weren't doing anything. One evening at supper after Halmund and a few others had unsuccessfully tried to capture one of the highwaymen who they'd found in Ithilien, he found it too much to bear. "You know that I escaped from their lair," he spoke up for the first time in a few days.

Malborn and Damrod turned to him, surprised at his perturbed tone. "Y-yes my lord," the ranger said, bewildered, "We know."

The King's piercing grey eyes rested on the two. "And yet you do not ask me the location of the place so as to start the mission?" he asked, looking back and forth between them. "Each second we wait, Lord Faramir will be closer to death. If he has not already yet been killed." He looked away, pain evident in his eyes, but not merely pain from his wounds. "He sacrificed himself that I might escape. I vowed to come to his aid. I suppose I have indeed failed him."

Damrod was silent. It was an action so typical of his beloved captain. He knew Faramir would have done the same for any of them. Of course he would have done it for the King, whom he worshipped. Always Faramir had spoken of the King's return. He'd longed for it. And Damrod could see the joy and honor in his eyes as he had performed Aragorn's coronation ceremony.

But Damrod had never thought that it would come to the need for self-sacrifice in this manner.

"I apologize, my lord," Malborn spoke up "It was my choice not to bring the matter up. I wished for you to recover for a little while, as undisturbed by dark thoughts as possible." He looked down at his feet submissively. Aragorn had a right to be angry.

The King, however, understood now. Though it had done little to keep him undisturbed, Malborn had had his best interests at heart. "You are forgiven. I suppose now, though, I am quite ready to tell you, and I have been for a while. It only just came to my mind that I could help your mission." His gaze softened, understanding how they would like to make his healing more peaceful. He was quite firmly convinced that he was safe now, and trusted the rangers, and, even more so, Damrod and his company.

"Yes, my lord," Malborn agreed, "I suppose it is time." He said. "Do you feel well enough to join us to plan the battle?"

Aragorn nodded firmly. "Indeed I am," he says, "It is long overdue."

The table had soon been cleared, and Aragorn, Damrod, Malborn, and Lindir were seated around it. A map of Ithilien had been rolled out on the table. Malborn pointed out significant places on the map so that Aragorn could get his bearings.

The King looked over the map thoughtfully for a moment. "The path to Henneth Annun begins here?" he pointed at a place that was marked on the map.

The ranger nodded. "Yes," he said, "And here is the cracked boulder by the river." Malborn pointed to another mark, near a long, winding line that must have been the river Aragorn used to guide himself.

He looked at it, trying to remember the bends in the river as he traced his finger along it. He had been in a state of delirium, but he had paid some slight attention to his wherabouts so that he could bring back help for Faramir, as much attention as he could. At last he found a sharp bend, the place where he had begun to follow the river. "Here," he said, pointing at it, "It is only a little ways east of this place in the river, in a small clearing."

The very air around them crackled with the rangers' excitement. They had spent months trying to find the highwaymen, and now they were so close to succeeding. But before they could get too carried away, Lindir, the sensible young man, spoke up. "I must ask, is there not a catch to this?"

Aragorn looked at him in surprise. "Such as what?" he asked. He hadn't thought of that.

Lindir, slightly embarrased for having spoken up, shrugged, "It must not be so easy to find," he said, "We have searched this area before. And, perhaps, should we get too close, there may be traps there?" He gave the others an anxious look.

The King nodded slowly. "They are not unintelligent, these robbers," he said, "For, even as I looked back, I could barely see the entrance to their lair. You see, it is underground. They've made a network of caverns, how, I do not know, and the entrance is in a small pile of rocks, or at least that is what it looks like to an untrained eye. But if you pull back one of the stones, you'll find a stairway that leads into their lair." He looked at each of his companions in turn, his gaze cool and calculating. This was the Ranger of the North, the Chieftain of the Dunedain, and Isildur's heir. His mind had recovered where his body had not. The grief had vanished from his mind, and now, firmly implanted there was justice. Not the King in Minas Tirith, but a warrior he was now. The men looked at him with a newfound, greater respect.

Damrod was the first to speak next. "Then I suppose we should attack as soon as possible, my lord," he said.

Aragorn smiled now, "Yes, but not in the way you think," he said, "Surely, Captain Damrod, you remember your ranger training?" he asked.

The former ranger nodded, "Though I am not sure my men do. I tried to bring mostly men like myself, but there are not many left, and I had to bring quite a few foot soldiers and cavalrymen." He inclined his head slightly to the side.

"But that is inconsequential," Aragorn replied, "They will not be infiltrating. They will be waiting. And if the rebels don't surrender, I believe foot soldiers and cavalrymen can fight just as well as rangers in a melee."

The Captain and the ranger glanced at each other. It seemed that, during his convalescence, Aragorn had planned their attack, instead of simply resting. It seemed that the Line of Elendil was outdoing the House of Hurin with stubborness.

"So, you have a plan already, sire?" Damrod asked, a gleam in his eyes, which Aragorn saw as a combination of excitement and laughter. The King wondered what the Captain would think funny about his having a plan, but he did not ask.

"Yes, Captain Damrod," he said, instead, "I could not merely sit about while the Lord Steward's life is in jeopardy." He gave them a moment for his words on the seriousness of the situation to sink in, then he told them his plan.

"Since I know exactly where they have their hideaway, and, indeed, some of their customs, I will lead a few of us into their lair, where we will pose as some of them, until one of us is able to leave and give the others, who will be waiting, a signal. Then, they will attack, and while the robbers think they are safe in their hole, we will show them our true colours," Aragorn said, "And then..." he broke off.

"Then what, my lord?" asked Damrod, curiously,

"Then," Aragorn told him, "We shall see what we will do then." It was true; this all depended on what state they found the Steward in. Or if he was even there at all. Perhaps the highwaymen would be clever enough to move their captive away from the cavern.

The two rangers and Damrod nodded, affirming Aragorn's plan as a very good one. He himself had had a few doubts, having thought it up while he was ill, but it seemed that the others agreed that it was a good plan.

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Aragorn was still recovering from his wounds, and he still slept on his stomach to ease the pain in his back. He knew that he was in no shape to attempt such a daring venture, but he could wait no longer to keep his promise.

He got up, unable to sleep. They had gone to their beds late that night, and Aragorn knew that he, in his weakened state, should rest and restore his energy if he was going to lead the attack tomorrow. But it was impossible. He'd tried, and failed, to fall asleep.

What was keeping him awake? Most likely it was worry over finding Faramir dead. He wished he could have helped him escape somehow. He paced the room restlessly, his wounds hurting, but he ignored them. A part of him was eager to go, another part afraid. He wondered again if his plan would work.

Aragorn said a silent prayer that Faramir's life, if not already taken, would be preserved for just a little while longer.

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To be Continued...

A/N: Here it is at last! I've been busy this week, which is why it took so long to update this.

I've also started on a series called 'The Last Hope,' an A.U. story about what may have happened if the Quest had failed, of which the first volume is 'Darkness Falls. Please read it and review!.

I have not, and will not, abandon this story. If you think I did, then you have misjudged me. How could I leave poor Faramir hanging like this. He'll be coming back in the next chapter, and I think that my Farangst loving readers will be quite pleased... *hint, hint*

Again, I did not abandon 'In His Stead.' My writers muse for that story seems to have taken a short vacation. But I promise that I will get chapter six up, sometime.

I think that catches everyone up. Please review this! I'll be seeing you soon, I hope!

~Luthien