A/N: Any A/N's too long or not directly related to the chapter should be found on my Author Profile, along with pleas for you to not hate me if I can't update for a period of time.
R&R
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Chapter Thirty-six
"Lord Éomer," called one of the men before her. He held a shinning spear to her breast and was watching her with a wary eye.
"What is it?" called a voice across the field of dead orcs.
"It's," he paused looking Serafina up and down and wrinkled his nose, "well it's a girl," he called back.
Serafina stood deadly still, eyes on the man pointing the closest spear at her. She kept her hands in the air wishing she'd had time to hide the silver belt.
A tall man came to stand beside the one who called. Judging by the way he held himself she assumed he was Lord Éomer. He looked her up and down. Forgetting herself she followed his eyes and looked down at her body. Her dress was filthy and had dark patches of orc blood and dirt making it appear a mottled texture, her cloak covered the bruise on her shoulder but with her arm's raised as they were she could see the tear in her dress and knew it was not escaping the eyes of the men in front of her. What shocked her the most was how poorly the dress seemed to fit her in comparison to a mere few days ago. The only thing that appeared undamaged was the leather pouch that still hung on her belt next to her empty sheaths. Slowly she was able to piece together a picture of what she must look like in their eyes: a filthy, half-wild, half-starved girl, only a few years younger than them perhaps, but far below them in status. To complete the picture she remembered they had found her crouching over the body of an orc.
She closed her eyes to collect herself before looking up once more; if it was truly over, if Merry and Pippin were dead, or even not dead, they were beyond her help, which meant she needed to find a place to live. Here she saw men clearly of Rohan; Rohan was as good a place as any and it was better than Gondor.
When she looked back up at Lord Éomer she caught a frightening glimpse of recognition in his eyes.
"Who are you?" he asked in the common tongue.
She didn't answer but kept her chin held high.
"Speak, girl!" he commanded. She thought he was probably not an unkind man, but she had no desire to stir his memory if indeed he recognised her from somewhere.
"Answer him, wench!" threatened the first man brandishing his spear closer to her. But she refused to flinch.
"Éothain, lower you weapon," commanded Éomer.
Instantly all of the weapons pointed at her were lowered. Éomer made an open gesture at her and smiled, "Now will you answer me? What is your name and your business?"
She lowered her hands feeling slightly giddy.
"No," she answered in the lowest, strongest and sanest voice she could muster, "I will not give you my name, not when I don't know who you are, or what right you had to point those at me," she nodded at the spears.
Éomer raised his eyebrows, but she saw his eyes flick to her belt where the sheaths lay empty. "You are not from these parts?" he asked.
"No," she answered slowly.
"Very well," he said reasonably, "I am Éomer son of Éomund, third Marshall of the Mark. It might interest you to know that in the Riddermark we do not rob the bodies of orcs. These are my men, or do you have need of all of their names before we continue?"
Appreciative sniggers sounded from the men. Serafina kept her face stony, but could not help fingering the silver belt in her hand.
"Your name, and your business," he prompted.
"Miyra. I have no business, other than trying to survive,"" she answered automatically, she didn't want to find out if the name Serafina held any weight in Rohan. She hoped the name Miyra would serve her better than last time.
"Why aren't you trying to survive in a village?" he asked with a smirk.
"I have travelled from the north,"
"With no companions?" he asked suspiciously.
"As you see me,"
"It is against the law of the King to let strangers walk in our lands,"
Serafina tried not to narrow her eyes. The man was trying her thin patience, "It would seem then, that I am walking in your King's land unlawfully,"
"If it is shelter you seek then you may be presented before the King and he may grant you freedom, or he will do with you as he chooses. You will travel with us to Edoras, regardless. Keep your trinket if you wish," he nodded at the belt in her hand half sneering, "Can you ride?"
She nodded with more confidence then she felt, and with perhaps to much vigour - her balance was thrown momentarily. Fortunately the Rohirrum did not notice for Éomer had begun walking around, shouting instructions at the men to prepare the horses. It seemed as though all of the orcs were piled and burning. The lord returned with a small, steady looking brown horse, saddle and bridle already in place.
"This is Festep. He will carry you to Edoras. And this," he said gesturing to a young man behind him, "is Asteard. He will be making sure you don't do anything you shouldn't,"
Serafina looked at the man. His blank expression reminded her forcefully of Heston. Asteard mounted his own horse with graceful ease. Éomer stood holding the reins of her horse, evidently waiting for her to mount.
Cringing inside she lifted a leg into her a stirrup. She had never been very good at mounting a horse, and this time she had a very bruised and swollen hip area that made walking slightly awkward. She wished she didn't have to mount it in front of all of these horsemen.
Gritting her teeth she swung herself up with all of her strength. Her leg nearly made it over the horses back but the timing was all wrong. Laughter exploded behind her and she swung ungracefully back off the horse, one foot still in the stirrup. Her hip was searing with pain, she fought desperately to not let the men see her weakness. A glance back at Éomer killed the laughter in his eyes and his face became serious.
"Alright men, on your horses!" he called to them, his voice carrying a chuckle she did not see in his expression, "Do you need some assistance?" he asked her.
Serafina glared at him and climbed awkwardly onto the horse without another look. The horse-lord handed her reins to Asteard and spoke to him in their language before leaving them. Within minutes every man was saddled and they were riding forth under the bright red morning.
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As the sun sank into afternoon Serafina tried to keep her mind off her failure of Merry and Pippin. Like Olin, she knew she had the rest of her life to dwell, or regret if it came to it, but now all she wanted to do was focus on the positives and the next move. She smiled as she realised that all was not lost, she was far away from the rest of the Fellowship and their terrible quest. Frodo's face appeared in her mind, but instead of the resigned look of burden that he'd carried for the last while she saw a terrible look of sadness and accusation for the loss of his kinsman. She gritted her teeth.
"Positives," she mumbled to herself.
Casting a glance around at the surrounding horses and Horsemen and rugged landscape a feeling of familiarity settled on her. A frown creased her brow as she looked for the reason behind it. The wind blew her filthy hair around her face as she rode and brought with it the stench of blood and orc from her companions and undoubtedly her own clothing. Her eyes widened - this was the same sort of country as that where Legolas handed her Aragorn's ring in Galadriel's Mirror. Her stomach turned. A moment of panic sent her head whirling and she looked over her shoulder as if expecting to see Aragorn striding down a hill top in the distance or Legolas riding towards her, his hand outstretched with a ring catching the sunlight as he went.
With difficulty she settled her mind and loosened her hands from her horses mane. She was being unreasonable and she knew it. Aragorn, and Legolas were both far away with Frodo and Sam, Boromir and Gimli. And if the Rohirrum had destroyed the Orcs already then perhaps that future was lost forever like she had wished. It was true that there were no warg carcasses at the site of the battle but Aragorn and Legolas were not there so there had to be some room for differences.
Slowly, very slowly Serafina relaxed. If the battled where Aragorn had lost his life in the vision was fought and over then Serafina had succeeded. A small smiled appeared on her face, but it was short lived. Merry and Pippin had most likely paid for Aragorn's life with their own and although she was grateful for Aragorn's life, a small voice inside her lamented the loss of the friendships she had unwillingly begun with the Fellowship.
Realising finally how tired she was Serafina leant forward in her saddle. She didn't care what these men of Rohan thought; she was tired, starving and severely dehydrated and she had lost her only friends to a dangerous quest and to death - it was time to sleep.
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Serafina felt ground underneath her and stirred groggily, wondering what she was doing lying in the dirt. She opened her eyes; she could see nothing in the brightness of the afternoon but a dark shape leaning over her. Unexpected fear coursed through her body and she closed her eyes immediately to feign unconsciousness; if the Orc suspected she was unconscious then maybe he would leave her alone. The dark shape blocked the sunlight that had been streaming onto her face. Her breath quickened. Her eyes flew open as a weight pressed onto her injured shoulder sending sharp pain through her body. She struggled with herself to not let a cry escape – she would not give him the satisfaction. Mercifully she found her hands unbound. Her right hand flew to the neckline of her dress and drew her dagger with as much speed as she could muster. In one fluid motion she stabbed straight at the middle of the creatures shaggy-haired head. She let her lips curl up into a snarl but her attacker twisted out of harms way just in time.
She heard yelling. Could the Orcs really still be arguing about Pippin's stone? She shook her head, something wasn't right. Again she aimed another stab at the creature but this time he caught her hands. Serafina panicked. She struggled against him but he had her wrists in his vice-like hands. There was to be no escape. Tears pricked her eyes and she dropped the dagger. The dark shape was yelling at her. She felt despair claw its tendrils around her mind and realised that she would never even see the face of the Orc that killed her because of her pitiful, weak tears. With one last surge of determination she tried to scratch the face of the creature with dirty torn nails, her hands together in his grasp and she kicked and squirmed in desperation.
"Serafina!" grunted her attacker as he dodged another kick.
She stopped struggling instantly. How did the orc know her name? She tried to rip her hands from his grasp but it was useless.
"Fia, it's me!" the voice pleaded desperately.
There was something about the quality of the voice that was familiar, but not familiar like the voice of an orc. It was familiar like the voice of a friend. Her eyes were still unable to make out the face of the attacker so instead she looked at where his hand held her wrists fast. The hand could not have belonged to an orc; it was unmistakably human. It belonged to a man. Something shiny caught her eye. On the forefinger of the man's hand was a ring, so familiar she knew she would never forget how brightly the emerald green eyes of the serpents shone.
Her eyes snapped up to the man's face as silence settled on the group. Dread filled her. Aragorn released her wrists as soon as she met his gaze. She looked around herself in utter confusion. The faces of Éomer and his men looked down at her in surprise and worry. Her eyes returned to Aragorn and beside him appeared two more familiar faces. Legolas and Gimli wore matching expressions of concern. Aragorn extended a hand to her. She looked down and saw the dagger she had just tried to stab him with. He was giving it back. Numbly she took it from him and slowly put it away, out of sight, as her mind scrambled to keep up. What was he doing here? Where were the others? Did this mean that the vision she had seen was not prevented, if so how was she to get away from him now?
Éomer's voice broke the stream of insistent questions running through her head,
"Éothain, assemble the men," he instructed without taking his eyes off Serafina. Within minutes the five of them were alone.
Aragorn moved swiftly to her side and helped her to her feet. She swayed unsteadily. He mumbled something unintelligible and predictably moved directly to her shoulder to inspect her injury. Instantly she turned her head away from him, but this did not prevent the warmth of his breath brushing over her collarbone. His hands were gentle as they traced the outline of the bruise and gently pressed the tender skin. Despite his usual steadiness she could have sworn she saw his hands shake for a moment.
"Orcs?" he asked darkly, rearranging her ripped dress to best cover her shoulder.
She nodded in answer and took a step back from him to clear her head, "What are you doing here?"
"Looking for you, and Merry and Pippin," he answered as if it were obvious.
Serafina felt her stomach drop at the mention of the hobbits but said, "Where are the others?"
Aragorn gave her a warning look, "We became separated," he said cryptically.
"You left Boromir alone with them?" she hissed, "What were you thinking?"
Her stomach flipped as Aragorn grabbed her waist and pulled her in close whispering harshly in her ear, "Do not forget the secrecy of the quest,"
But his harsh tone was lost on Serafina, his left hand grazed her bruised and swollen hip and she cried out in agony, stumbling away from him. Legolas steadied her. She ignored him. Aragorn took a step towards them indicating to her hip.
"Leave it," she all but growled.
He frowned but didn't continue.
"Boromir of Gondor?" came a voice Serafina had momentarily forgotten.
She looked up to see Éomer watching them curiously. He was looking between each face, a deeper frown passed over his brow as he looked over Aragorn and Legolas. Serafina followed his gaze and caught a concerned look passing between the two.
"Yes," began Aragorn, "We travelled with him to Gondor, but now we mourn his loss," he locked eyes with Serafina, who squinted at him, not understanding. Aragorn continued in a sombre tone, "he died defending Merry and Pippin, the Halflings we seek, against the Uruk-Hai you destroyed in the night,"
"That is a loss," said Éomer, "and I am saddened to hear it…"
Serafina stopped listening. Her mind struggled to keep up. Boromir dead? She could hardly fathom it, there must be some mistake, some secret that Aragorn wished to keep from Éomer.
She looked over at Aragorn dismissing the news of Boromir as a farce. He was now deeply engaged in conversation with Éomer. She wondered if she should tell him what she thought of Merry and Pippin, her hand went unconsciously to her belt pouch where she had hidden the silver belt she'd found with the dead orc.
Éomer's voice broke into her thoughts "So she travelled with you?"
"Yes she has been travelling with us until the Uruks took her," Aragorn answered without looking at her.
"And her name is Serafina, not Miyra,"
"Yes her name is Serafina,"
"I see," he said staring at her with his piercing eyes, "She was robbing the carcasses of orcs when we found her. She is a thief, and not a very clever one at that. I have never heard of anyone robbing a dead orc,"
"I think you would have found, had you asked, that she was searching for our friends," Legolas said fiercely.
"Do you not think, Elf that we did not try to discover her purpose here?" Éomer replied angrily, "She gave us lies for answers claiming she was travelling alone from the north and that her name was Miyra. As yet I have no reason to believe that she is worth the toll on the horse she rides. She appears to be more trouble than she is worth,"
"Well then, it is good to see you haven't changed," muttered Gimli to her.
"Why did you lie?" demanded Éomer.
Serafina did not answer but looked to Aragorn for help. What could she say that would not incriminate herself further?
"Maybe the lass gave you a false name because she didn't know if she could trust a herd of horsemen," interjected Gimli moving to stand in front of her protectively.
"That's enough," said Aragorn sharply and he took a step towards Éomer. His expression was dark and he began talking with the Horse Lord in hushed tones. Serafina could not hear a word of the conversation, she could only see him looking between her and Éomer gesturing as he spoke and bringing his palms together in a pleading gesture. Realising the Elf would be able to hear the conversation she looked up behind her into Legolas' face, hoping to be able to discern some of the discussion from his expression. But his face was blank. Certainly he was listening but Serafina knew the last thing Legolas would want to do would be to extend any knowledge of something to her.
"Here lass," came a gruff voice from below her.
She looked down to see Gimli offering her a water skin and she took it gratefully. The Rohirrum had given her some water, but hardly enough to make up for the past few days of dehydration.
"You look terrible," he said smirking.
She smiled weakly, taking a long swig.
"You gave us a right scare lassie," he huffed, "Let me tell you that is the last time I chase you across Middle Earth. If we'd have found you dead I would have taken your mangled body to the Necromancer himself and had you revived so that I could kill you for the trouble you caused,"
Serafina handed the water skin back to him, "I'm flattered,"
"You shouldn't be. I've never seen that one," he nodded at Aragorn, "grimmer than when we found your sword, daggers and rucksack lying in the tracks of the orcs,"
"We'd just farewelled Boromir and set off after the Uruks to rescue Merry and Pippin when we found them. We feared for your life sorely," said Legolas.
Serafina shifted her weight uncomfortably wondering at the second reference to Boromir's death, and swayed precariously. Gimli steadied her and she kept a hand resting on his shoulder for support. Legolas produced a piece of Lembas bread out of nowhere.
"Eat," he said, his attention once again caught by the two men talking quietly but urgently.
She obeyed obligingly.
"Did you ever see them?" Gimli asked suddenly.
"See who?"
"The hobbits, lass," he said impatiently.
She swallowed, stalling. Her hand went again to her pouch. "I saw them once, when I escaped. They were alive when I left, they helped me," she paused looking down, "that was a few days ago now,"
The three of them looked down, Serafina couldn't bring herself to tell them her fears, but she thought she didn't need to. They probably feared the same.
They stood in silence waiting for Aragorn and Éomer to finish discussing their business. She watched the two of them talk. Eventually their tones grew louder to the volume of a normal conversation. She heard Éomer asking for Aragorn to come to Edoras, explaining the sickness of his uncle the King. Misgivings settled upon her, but she pushed them aside. Soon the words drifted over her and she found herself studying Aragorn. He seemed changed, altered somehow. She wondered if it was the toll of the pursuit that had changed him, but he seemed only slightly more worn than normal.
She ran her eyes over his face and his body, grateful for the safe distance between them and soon compared him to Éomer. She was shocked at how common the horse-lord looked next to him. She turned back to Aragorn and saw that he no longer held himself like a ranger; he looked like a king.
A deep flush coursed through he body and her insides sank. How could this be the man she had seen in that vision? A terrible moment of self-pity washed over her, and she hardened her resolve to keep him at a distance.
"I can offer you horses," Éomer said as the two of the walked towards herself, Legolas and Gimli.
Aragorn opened his mouth to speak looking at Serafina but she interrupted before he could answer, "I'm not coming with you," she said warningly.
He looked at her quizzically, "No, you're not. You can barely stand. Lord Éomer has agreed to look out for you - " Serafina opened her mouth to argue but Aragorn held up a hand to silence her, "He has agreed to look out for you at least until we return with Merry and Pippin," he paused then added "or with news of them. You are to travel on to Edoras as planned, we will find you there,"
Serafina could only nod in response, unable to think of anything to say.
Suddenly there was commotion as Gimli and Legolas engaged Éomer in heated conversation. She rolled her eyes when she heard mention of Lady Galadriel, but lost her balance again when Gimli took a step away from her. Aragorn caught her arm.
"You are unsteady," he said in a low voice.
"I'm tired," she said dismissively.
"I heard you mention the hobbits while I was speaking with Éomer,"
She wrinkled her nose in annoyance but nodded sadly, "They were alive when I escaped,"
"But you do not hold to hope," he concluded.
Her hand flicked to her pouch again. She tired to cover by resting her hand on her hip, but ended up cringing in pain from the pressure on her bruise. Aragorn frowned at her.
"What aren't you telling me?" he said taking her hand from her hip. She flushed at the contact but slipped her hand out of his. Sighing she opened the pouch and pulled out the silver belt.
"I found this," she whispered unable to look at him, "at the battle field. It was in the hands of a dead orc,"
Aragorn took the belt from her and ran it through his hands. She looked up into his face and saw momentary despair followed by a steely resolve. His eyes met hers with a fierce passion, "There is still hope," he insisted pressing the belt back into her hands, "Never loose sight of it,"
She looked at him trying to keep the helplessness out of her eyes.
"Fia," he said bringing a hand to her face.
"No," she uttered weakly, taking a step away from him.
He turned his head to the side and squinted at her in the sunlight, as if trying to make her out. She felt her insides squirm but steadied herself as best she could and straightened her back. He cocked an eyebrow at her but said nothing. Instead he drew out of his pack her sword and daggers that he had carried with him. He handed them to her wordlessly.
With nothing else to do Serafina concentrated on sheathing her weapons, conscious that all conversation between the men had stopped.
"She carries a curious amount of daggers," commented Éomer.
"There is only one that I am thankful for," Aragorn murmured darkly.
Serafina looked up and Éomer asked, "And which one is that?"
"The one the Uruk-Hai didn't find,"
"The one she attacked you with? You jest, surely,"
"No, it is the one that certainly saved her life," he answered.
She searched his face as she stood there. He must have found the Orc she killed. She wondered how he knew she killed him, but then remembered he was a ranger and would have read her tracks leading away from the dead body.
She noticed Éomer looking between the two of them and busied herself rechecking her weapons. Legolas and Gimli mounted a horse, she smiled at how ridiculous the dwarf looked hanging on behind Legolas. Aragorn nodded to her in farewell and turned to his own horse. Despair assailed her once more. Desperately she tried to find some of the hope that Aragorn had bid her to hold on to.
Something itched at her mind, a tiny spark of possibility. Eyes wide she rushed to Aragorn's side, and grabbed his hand before he could mount the horse. Startled by her actions he looked at her with a bemused expression. She looked back at where Éomer stood a few metres away and wondered if he could overhear.
She turned to Aragorn and looked at him imploringly, hoping desperately he would dismiss her rash behaviour. She pulled his hand down by her side, holding it with her left hand. Lifting herself up on tiptoes she steadied herself with her right hand on his shoulder so that their bodies were almost flush against each other. With her head snaked in close to his neck she hoped Aragorn's head blocking hers from Éomer's view would be enough to prevent him from hearing her words or reading her lips. She took a deep breath, and tried desperately to ignore how close to him she was.
"If there is any hope," she whispered against his neck, unable to whisper in his ear without him bending, "if they are not dead,"
"Fia, what -" he began.
"They told me that the only reason they wanted them alive was because they thought, or Saruman thinks they have the ring,"
"We thought as much," he agreed matching her hushed tone.
A thrill ran down her spine at the feeling of his breath on her skin and the sound of his voice in her ear sent goose bumps down her arms. She gripped his hand and shoulder tighter to try to keep herself on task.
"If they are not dead, then maybe some of the," she stumbled on the word, "Uruks," she paused again, "maybe some of them escaped the battle and took them on to Isengard,"
"I will not lie to you, Éomer is adamant that none of the Uruks escaped. But," he said drawing her in closer with his left hand high on her waist, "that does not mean that hope is lost, there are other ways they could have escaped,"
Serafina sank a little on her toes.
"Do not despair!" he whispered fervently, "I will find them,"
She nodded against his neck and he tightened his hold on her hand. She squeezed back and straightened her spine once more. She knew if she could, she would need to escape Éomer before Aragorn returned, another desperate bid to evade the future. If she succeeded this would be the last time she saw him. She swallowed and hoped he would be all right, that Merry and Pippin were all right. He would find them.
"Then that is the hope I hold to," she whispered with as much confidence and conviction as she could muster.
Lowering herself back to her normal height she stepped away from him. He lifted a hand halfway to her face and then dropped it, as if thinking better of it. A pang of disappointment shot through her but she ignored it and watched as he mounted his horse with ease. She blushed remembering how terrible she was at that action.
Once mounted, he looked down at her and nodded solemnly his grey eyes searing into her own. She nodded back quickly then looked away and waved at Gimli and Legolas as they bid her farewell.
Watching them ride away her mind dissolve into turmoil. Her thoughts flitted between confusion and disbelief at finding Aragorn so close when she had thought him so far away, and not knowing if Merry and Pippin were alive or not. With a jolt she wondered what they were meaning by talking about Boromir's death, and why Aragorn left Frodo and Sam to find her, Merry and Pippin.
Remembering herself she noticed that Éomer was standing next to her watching the two horses ride away.
"That was some show you put on for my men," he commented vaguely.
"It was no show," she answered jutting out her chin.
"I was not aware that you and the heir of Isildur were so," he paused looking for the word, "close,"
"We aren't," she said nonchalantly, "I was saying goodbye,"
"But they intend to return," he said raising his voice in alarm.
"But I do not intend to stay,"
"I don't really care what you intend, girl. You will ride with my men to Edoras and I will present you before my King,"
Serafina scowled at him, "Of course,"
"On your horse girl," he said as his men rode towards them, "I have a feeling you really will be more trouble than you're worth,"
Serafina smiled despite herself, she was determined to be just that.
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