Chapter Eleven: The Stonewain Valley
Early the next morning, the stables of Minas Tirith were a busy place. Stable boys were quickly readying the horses for the party from Rohan who were anxious to get on their way. Pulling Lindel up beside Faramir's horse, Emilyn began to brush down her sleek brown coat before saddling her.
"May I ask where you think you are going?" Faramir asked, leaving his animal and coming to Lindel, patting her muzzle. Setting her brush down, Emilyn lifted her saddle onto Lindel's back.
"I'm going with you," she said with a grunt, situating the saddle and tightening the straps.
"Emilyn, do you really think…" Emilyn shot him an exasperated look and Faramir smiled when he saw her push a lock of her hair from her face, something she always did when nervous, or trying to appear more impressive, whether there was a lock of hair there or not.
"If you get to ride to the borders to escort my brother and my uncle, then I am going as well," she said without giving him a chance to argue.
"Does my father know about this?" Faramir asked, trying a different approach. With her saddle in place, Emilyn straightened herself up, her dark blue riding dress making her look very petite amongst the large horses from the plains of Rohan.
"Boromir gave me permission," she said, holding a blue ribbon between her teeth and pulling her hair out of her face, readying herself for the ride.
"Boromir is not father." Faramir frowned at Emilyn, but she was unswayed.
"It's at times like this, Faramir, that you have to learn to nod and agree with whatever she says," Éomer said, coming up behind them. "It's no use arguing with her. She's been that way since she was a child." Emilyn punched her older brother on the arm who pretended to be sorely injured.
"I'm at least glad to know there is one man who can handle her," Faramir said, going back to his own horse.
Éomer chuckled. "Trust me, I don't know if such a man exists, for it is surely not I."
"You boys stop giving my niece such a hard time," Théoden said, putting on his gloves and walking into the stables. Putting his arm around Emilyn, he gave her a fatherly squeeze. "I would love for her to accompany us."
"Then it is settled," Emilyn said with finality, climbing into Lindel's saddle, giving Faramir a smirk to which he gave back a scowl with an air of comic haughtiness.
Boromir strode down the hall of the Palace and ran a hand nervously through his hair, using his physical prowess and powerful strides to keep at bay anyone who might wish to speak with him. Turning a corner, he heard his father's voice carrying down the stone hallway, giving orders to a servant. The steward's heir quickly turned, hoping to avoid his father at all costs, but failed.
"Ah, Boromir," Denethor called after him. Sighing, Boromir turned slowly back to him. "I've wanted to speak with you," the Steward added, dismissing his servant and walking towards his oldest son wearing what could be considered a smile on his face.
"I would love to speak with you, father, but I am needed in Osgiliath this morning," Boromir said, hoping this would stay any further conversation.
"Then I will walk with you," the Steward said obligingly. Gritting his teeth, Boromir resigned himself to the fact that he would have to endure him.
"I see that you and our little Emilyn are getting on well," Denethor said, looking up to his son with a sly grin.
"Our little Emilyn?" Boromir asked. "Since when have you decided to speak so kindly of her?"
Denethor played off the comment with a laugh. "Since I've seen you so taken by her. The girl is reckless, but perhaps there is still hope."
"Perhaps? Father, please, I have no time for this," Boroimr insisted, irritated at his father's line of questioning.
Denethor pulled him to the side of the hall. "The shadow around Mordor is growing. I can feel it. Our enemy will be trying to strengthen his army. Now is the time to act."
Boromir stopped his father before he could say more. "No, father, not yet. She is not ready, and I am not ready. I don't want to rush her into this."
"Rush her into this?" Denethor said angrily. "What does she think I brought her here for? She is here to do as her uncle and I say- to build this alliance. I will tell her so myself, if she has a problem understanding that." Denethor began to walk away, presumably headed to Emilyn's room to tell her exactly how he felt about the situation.
"It is in vain to search her rooms. She is not here, father," Boromir called, telling him plainly.
Turning slowly, Denethor tried to control his anger. "She is not here? Then pray tell, son, where would she be?"
"She rode with Faramir to see the Rohan party to our borders."
Denethor's frown deepened as he took in the information. "You let her ride with Faramir?" he asked quietly.
"Yes," Boromir admitted, not completely certain himself that it had been the best of decisions.
"Are you blind?" Denethor asked, his voice in a furious whisper. "I do not trust them. They pay far too much attention to each other, always laughing together, spending time in their studies. They will ruin your marriage when it comes." As he thought over the situation, he began speaking more to himself than his son. "It's that wizard," Denethor said, as if he could taste the threat against him. "He and Faramir have joined forces to destroy me. He sets my children against me."
"Father, this is nonsense," Boromir said, shaking his head, almost embarrassed by his father's paranoia.
"You may think it nonsense now, but mark my words. This will be trouble." Turning, Denethor stormed away, leaving Boromir just as unsettled and uneasy as before.
Sighing, Boromir continued on his way, trying to sort through his thoughts. When Emilyn had agreed if she could join him in escorting her uncle and brother to the borders, he had readily agreed. Not only would she get to see her loved ones off, but they would also have some time to themselves on the ride back to Minas Tirith. Unfortunately, things hadn't worked out as planned.
Before dawn, he had received an urgent message that he was needed in Osgiliath. The rangers wanted to meet with and the other commanders about what had been happening at the Ithilien borders. As Captain-General, he had to see to the matter personally, he woke Faramir and aksed if he would mind escorting Théoden and his men. But Boromir knew that bothering him most was the fact that Faramir would be the one spending precious time with Emilyn.
Boromir did not enjoy feeling like this. He was used to seeing what he wanted and taking it, but he couldn't do that this time, and it was driving him mad. If he wanted Emilyn to love him, not just be his for the taking, he would have to do so on her terms, not those of a soldier. He also knew he had to tread carefully around his brother. While he knew Faramir would stand by and see them wed without saying a word about how he truly felt, the last thing Boromir wanted to do was hurt him- to destroy the friendship and trust they shared. That was why he let them go. That was why, as difficult as it was right now, he had to be patient.
The party reached the Stonewain valley by mid-morning and then headed north towards the Grey wood where they were to part ways. Dismounting, the men exchanged handshakes, while Emilyn stood back, thankful she'd had this short amount of time with them, but not wanting to see them go. Taking a deep breath as her brother approached her; she tried not to let the emotion overwhelm her.
Without a word he pulled her close, smelling as he always did of leather and horses, his arms stronger than any she knew. Memories of earlier times flooded back, and she held on tighter, willing him to stay.
"I want you to watch yourself," he whispered, his voice choked with despair. "I don't trust Denethor. There is something about him that isn't right." He let go of her and held her face tightly in his hands. "Do you understand me?"
Emilyn nodded, tears running down her cheeks, unable to keep them at bay.
"You have two very strong protectors looking after you, trust them. Boromir will do whatever is needed to keep you safe, I see that in him. Faramir loves you almost as much as I…" he couldn't finish, too overcome. Pulling her close again he held her for minutes, not caring that the others were now waiting on him.
Finally breaking their connection, he wiped away her tears, and then his own with the back of his hand. "I will see you soon, I promise." Giving her a hard kiss on the cheek he turned abruptly and went to his horse, leading the riders forward.
Emilyn watched as the horses faded into the distance. Their time together had been far too short, a heavy sadness filling her as she watched them leave.
"You'll see them soon," Faramir said next to her, reining his own horse in and watching them go.
"I know," Emilyn sighed, thinking silently for a moment. The wind picked up and she looked to Faramir with a playful smile. "Come on," she said. "Lindel's dying to best your horse." Kicking up her hells, she raced forward.
"Emilyn!" Faramir yelled. "That's not fair!" Turning his mount, he rushed after her.
Emilyn raced to the west up the Stonewain Valley that ran between the forest of the Druadan and the mountains, urging Lindel forward, glancing behind her every few minutes to see Faramir quickly catching up behind her. She pushed Lindel a bit harder as she ran along the forest's edge.
Almost as if in a dream, she saw the dark figures to her right out of the corner of her eye coming from behind some trees…orcs. She knew in an instant what they were. One was readying a short bow on its back. Emilyn knew what was coming, but could do nothing to stop it. She tried to confuse their aim by tugging on Lindel's reigns and turning her around running in the other direction.
"Faramir!" she screamed as he came towards her, but he had already spotted the bad of five orcs and was riding straight for them.
"Keep riding!" Faramir yelled.
Digging her heels into Lindel's side, Emilyn refused to leave him. She turned Lindel again, but the horse lurched forward as two arrows pierced her rump and the animal kicked her back legs, throwing Emilyn from the saddle. She fell onto the hard ground with a thud and tumbled down a small rise leading into the forest before slamming against the trunk of a six hundred year old oak.
Seeing the man on horseback heading straight for them, the orcs managed to hurriedly shoot a couple arrows that went astray, only one hitting its mark in the flank of Faramir's horse. Jumping from his saddle, Faramir had his bow at the ready in an instant. His arrows took down three of the enemy. The two remaining, seeing the man off his horse, and wanting a fight, decided to give him just that. One rushed towards him with a dagger while the other, who was not nearly as assured of himself, carried what looked like a sword that had been broken at the tip.
Faramir took care of him with one swipe of his blade, slicing through his ragged attempt at leather armor. The other thrust his dagger at Faramir's chest, but the man managed to move of the way in time. As he turned, Faramir thrust his sword in the orc's belly. Pushing his victim to the ground, he pulled his sword free, turning to see his horse lying on its side. The animal's breathing labored by the poison that laced the orc's arrow and was quickly working its way through the animal's veins.
"Steady girl, it will be over soon." Patting the horse's neck, he hurried to find Emilyn. "Emilyn!" he yelled. "Emilyn!" His voice became desperate when he saw Lindel lying in the dirt. He searched the surrounding areas of the trees and bushes nearby the horse's body, but there was no sign of her.
Emilyn tried to move, but it was far too painful at the moment. She tried to assess exactly what hurt, but her head was pounding too hard to concentrate. She took a deep breath, but found it impossible as a sharp pain shot down her side. She heard Faramir's voice calling for her, but couldn't answer. He was coming closer and Emilyn tried once more to sit up, but between the pain and dizziness, the world around her swirled into shadow, and everything faded into darkness.
"Emilyn, Emilyn, can you hear me?" the words were distant and caught in a strange fog as Emilyn slowly found her way to consciousness again. Opening her eyes, she saw Faramir kneeling over her, his brow furrowed, his eyes deeply concerned. There was a large scratch on his cheek.
"You're hurt," Emilyn said weekly, but Faramir ignored it, busy concentrating on how extensive her injuries were.
"Are you in pain?" he asked. Emilyn tried to sit up, but he forced her back down carefully, wincing as he did so.
"My head's not so bad anymore, but there's a sharp pain in my side and my arm is numb." Faramir gently felt of her arm. If she hadn't hurt so badly, Emilyn would have laughed at how serious his face was. She was about to say as much when he pressed on her side. Emilyn breathed in sharply, holding her breath until the pain subsided.
Helping her slowly sit up, Faramir leaned her back against the tree she had collided with. Emilyn took a deep breath as the blood rushed from her head, holding onto Faramir until she wsa steady.
She gave him a feeble smile. "Some shield maiden I am," she teased. Faramir handed her his canteen of water and sat down beside her. "Are they gone?" she asked, taking a drink.
Faramir nodded. "I think we caught them off guard. They looked to be scouts. I don't think there will be anymore unless they have friends coming to look for them, which I unlikely. Brotherhood is not something you find amongst orcs."
"And the horses?" Emilyn asked, holding onto her sore arm.
"Dead," Faramir answered gently, knowing how dearly she had always treasured Lindel. "The orc's arrows were poisoned; they didn't suffer for long." He took a drink for himself and Emilyn fought back the lump in her throat as she thought of Lindel being taken down by the orc arrows. "My main concern is you," he said, turning towards her. "I have no doubt that you broke a couple of ribs, and your arm is probably broken as well. We have to get you to a healer. Do you think you can walk?" Emilyn nodded and Faramir helped her stand, handling her like a delicate flower, afraid he might cause her pain at the slightest of touches.
"Faramir," she said standing in front of him, her hair red in the sun with bits of grass imbedded in the curls. "I'm so sorry, if I had known…" Faramir stopped her, kissing a tear from her dirt-smudged cheek.
"I am just glad you aren't hurt worse than you are. Besides, it wouldn't do to have you best me again." He smiled at hr, but his brow furrowed once more, trying to forget the images that had flashed through his head as he'd searched for her: orc arrows piercing her chest, her body crushed under the horse as it fell, orcs slashing her throat and him powerless to stop it. "I'm just glad you are safe." Burying her head in his chest, Faramir wrapped his arms around her protectively.
"Faramir," she said softly. "I'm getting dizzy again." The young captain helped her sit back down and made her drink some more water, waiting until she felt strong enough to begin the long trek back to Minas Tirith.
Boromir was only half listening to what Delan, one of the rangers from Ithilien, had been telling him when he was caught off guard by a question. "Do you agree, my Lord?" Delan asked. Looking up, Boromir found ten sets of eyes looking to him expectantly.
"Do I agree with what? I am sorry. My mind is elsewhere in these matters," Boromir said, trying to remember what on earth they had been discussing.
"Yes, my Lord, about placing more rangers near the black gate. We have sent many into the East to bring back reports from Dagorlad and past Mordor. With the recent activity there, I'm afraid we are going to need more men."
Boromir nodded. "Of course, whatever it is you require. We must find out what we are up against." He quickly folded the large map of Mordor in front of him, effectively ending the meeting whether they were officially finished or not. "I will discuss this with the Steward, but I assure you that you will have the men." The rest of the soldiers stood as their Captain-General left. "Have my horse saddled and ready," he ordered a page outside the meeting room.
"My Lord," Mablung said, rushing towards him, flanked by four other soldiers. "There has been a report of an orc attack in the Stonewain valley. One of the men came across the bodies of two horses and five orcs." Boromir sighed, annoyed that one more thing was going to keep him here when it was nearing early evening. Faramir and Emilyn would be back by now, and all he wanted was to get back to Minas Tirith before any more damage could be done.
"Must I hear of every going on in Ithilien? Send some of your men to search the area for any others. I am headed back to the White City. I have far more pressing business there. Mablung, I trust you can handle this." He dismissed the man, but Mablung didn't move. "I have not the time for games, Mablung. Is there something else?" Boromir asked gruffly.
The older soldier couldn't quite find the words, but finally managed to speak. "One of the horse, my Lord…it was Lindel." Boromir's face turned pale, and he started towards the man.
"Are they certain of this?"
Mablung nodded. "Yes, my Lord. They also found these." He handed Boromir one of Faramir's arrows. His brother had a particular style of fletch that he liked to use and his arrows were unmistakable. "It was taken from one of the orc's bodies," Mablung explained, showing the blood tipping the shaft. The other item was a dark blue, velvet ribbon that had fallen from Emilyn's hair. Boromir looked at it, and his expression darkened. Falling into sorrow, he raced towards the stables.
"Tell your men to follow me! I shall lead this outfit," he commanded.
"Their horses are already saddled, my Lord," Mablung called after Boromir, who was near running to the stable, almost in tears.
"Oh, Emilyn," he whispered to himself. "If you or my brother lie dead, I swear that every orc in Ithilien shall pay the price.