Chapter 10
Aragorn surveyed the scene in front of him. Sam, who had been on watch, had a cloth held over his mouth. He was making odd, muffled noises, which the man had no doubt were curses aimed at his captor. Merry and Pippin had their arms twisted behind their backs, Gimli had his axe raised menacingly, and Legolas had his bow in his hand, fitted with an arrow and pointing at what had grabbed Aragorn's immediate attention.
He stared over at the figure who had Frodo held at sword-point, surveying his appearance. The figure was a man, a little shorter than himself, and of a similar build. It was hard to see clearly in the dark, but Aragorn guessed that he was clad in green and brown, with a hood cast over his eyes and a mask covering the rest of his face.
"Which among this rabble do you name as your leader?" asked the man.
Aragorn raised his head slightly. "Who are you?"
"I do believe it's customary for the guests to declare themselves first when in a foreign land," laughed the man. "And until I decide otherwise, all you will know is that we are your... hosts."
This elicited a laugh from the man holding Sam, and the gardener let out a new string of curses.
"Who are you, and why are you with this mismatched gaggle of outcasts?" asked the man with Frodo at the point of his sword, who seemed to be the leader.
"We are travellers, passing through this land," Aragorn said shortly.
"There are no travellers in Ithillien," hissed the leader. "What are your names?"
"We are on an urgent errand from Elrond of Rivendell," Frodo said, glaring up the sword. "And before we tell our names, you could at the very least remove your sword."
"Provided that your archer lowers his bow," the leader conceded, turning his concealed face to Legolas. Aragorn nodded, and Legolas, understanding the unvoiced order, stowed the arrow back in his quiver, but the bow remained in his hand.
The leader lifted his sword from Frodo's neck, but made no attempt to sheathe it, and the hobbit got up, dusting himself down. He grudgingly nodded his thanks.
"Do not try to run," the leader warned. "There are fifteen of us surrounding you, though you may not see them all. And we know this land better than any... 'traveller'..." he used the word sceptically, "ever could. Now, I have removed my sword, so tell me your names."
"I am known as Strider," Aragorn said. "I am a ranger from the north. This is Gimli, son of Gloin, and Legolas of Mirkwood. My friend who you have gagged is Samwise Gamgee, and my friends over there are Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took, and this-"
"I go by the name of Frodo Baggins," Frodo said before Aragorn could introduce him. "Now we have told you our names, could you please tell us who interrupts our journey?"
"We are the rangers from the south," the leader said, a hint of mirth creeping into his voice as he turned to Aragorn. "And while your friend Strider may not have had the courtesy to tell us his real name, I at the very least have the courtesy of telling you mine. I am Faramir, captain of Gondor. Now tell me, what business do you have in Ithillien?"
"As I believe I mentioned before," Aragorn stated, "we are travellers passing through this land. We are on an errand to see the destruction of the lord of the Black Land, and if you oppose him, it would be a wise move to let us go."
"What errand is this?"
"An important one."
Faramir laughed bitterly. "You hardly inspire confidence, Strider," Faramir said. "Why should I allow you to continue, when your leader gives a false name and a poor description of his purpose in our land?"
"We seek to destroy Isildur's bane," Frodo blurted out.
Faramir fell silent, and the atmosphere suddenly became a lot more tense.
"Isildur's bane?" Faramir breathed. "You have it with you?"
Frodo chose not to answer.
"What is it?" Faramir asked more urgently. "Tell me of it."
Aragorn drew his sword at what he deemed the new threat.
"You will know nothing more of it," Aragorn promised Faramir.
Faramir raised his own sword at the challenge.
"Strider," Gimli warned.
Aragorn glanced at Faramir's raised sword, but reluctantly lowered his own. Faramir mimicked him, but neither blade made it to their sheaths.
"We have much to discuss, Strider," Faramir said.
"So what is the nature of Isildur's bane?" Faramir asked Aragorn.
They were a little apart from the others, who sat in a cluster of members of the Fellowship and rangers of Ithillien.
"It is an object of great power and greater evil," Aragorn said. "It cannot be wielded by any save our Enemy."
"And what possessed a man, an elf, a dwarf and four Halflings to undertake this task?"
"We were originally nine. We passed through Moria, but we lost our original guide on the bridge of Khazad-dûm. Our second companion left us on the banks of the Anduin, because he did not believe in our quest.
"Who were your companions?"
"We lost Mithrandir in Moria. The companion that left us on the Anduin was a man of Gondor. His name was Boromir."
"Boromir?" Faramir echoed. "What fate has befallen Boromir?"
"He was consumed with desire for the- Isildur's bane. He attempted to take it, but when he could not, he departed our company, intending to head for his home city."
"He is on his way back?" Faramir sounded elated.
"Unless something truly remarkable has happened to change his destination, then yes, I believe he is."
"How long ago was this?"
"Six days ago," Aragorn said. "Six days since we parted at the seat of Amon Hen."
Faramir looked lost in thought, finally pulling down his mask and hood. "Six days..." he breathed. "It is not totally without the bounds of possibility that he chose to come back on foot, in which case he would still be travelling, but if I know him at all, then he would make for Edoras and borrow a horse... He should be back by now..."
"Faramir, what do you know of him?"
Faramir looked at Aragorn incredulously. "What do I know of him? Everything. He is my brother."
Aragorn regarded Faramir carefully. Boromir had oft spoken of a younger brother, saying that he was wise but undervalued. He could see the resemblance Faramir bore to Boromir physically – their eyes were the same colour, and their facial features were of a similar shape, yet there was something lighter about his build, and something different about his air. He could see that, should nobody else have any influence over him, Faramir would probably understand at some point that what they were doing was for the good of all Middle Earth – a point which his brother had disagreed with strongly. However, Aragorn could also see that Faramir was desperate to prove himself, and Aragorn was not sure that Faramir's wisdom would override his desperation.
"So what is your real name?" Faramir asked.
"Aragorn," he finally conceded. "Aragorn, son of Arathorn."
-:-
Frodo stared into the dying embers of the fire, unable to lower his guard to the men surrounding him. He knew that the men distrusted this mismatched group of travellers, and it was quite clear the feeling was mutual. Sam had flung himself down next to Frodo, having finally been freed from his captor. He was muttering a frankly astounding array of curses at his former captor under his breath.
Suddenly, the silence was broken by Gimli noticing something – or the absence of something.
"Where's..." he said hesitantly, uncertain of how to put it in front of the rangers. "Where's our guide?"
There was a pause, as everyone looked around for Gollum.
Frodo shut his eyes exasperatedly. "No..." he hissed through gritted teeth.
"That slinker's given us the slip," Sam growled.
"He must have slipped off when the fight started," Gimli snapped, venting his frustration by kicking a rock.
"Now, normally I'm not one to be petty," Legolas began, "but I told you so. That creature could not be trusted. He runs away at the first sign of trouble, leaving everyone else to sort out any mess he's created, intentional or no. And now we're-"
"What's going on?" Aragorn asked, as he and Faramir returned.
"Our guide has run off," Merry explained shortly.
"I told you, Strider," Legolas snapped. "I told you that this would happen – that he would slip away as soon as our backs were turned. We're just lucky that he didn't throttle us as he did so, or take it with him. And now, we are stuck in some miscellaneous part of Ithillien, trapped by a group of rangers, with absolutely no idea where we are, where we're going, or what dangers stand between us. Now I don't know about you, but I think chances of our success are dwindling rapidly to zero."
"You mean to tell me that there's another of your company?" Faramir asked incredulously.
"Indeed," Aragorn clarified.
"And he's escaped?"
"Unfortunately so."
Faramir turned to his men. "Spread out. Find him."
"How will you know what to look for?" Aragorn asked, struggling to contain his frustration.
"As I believe I've mentioned before," Faramir smirked at Aragorn, "there are no travellers in this land." He turned back to his men. "Bring anyone that you find to me alive."