A/N: I sprained my wrist in karate lessons, so brief author's notes today. Closing in on the end of the story, here, and there's lots of action in this chapter (and I really, REALLY have trouble writing action, so please have mercy…).
Chapter 36: Backlash
Aeron shifted in the straight-backed chair, rubbing his aching eyes with the palms of his hands. He was willing to wait as long as he had to, but he hoped he didn't have to wait much longer.
Grimace and obey, that was all he could do since Araedhelm had started assigning him the worst duties available. With the small shopping trip, he'd been the only available option. In this case, Araedhelm had insisted that waiting for Ecthelion's arrival was not only too important a task to be trusted to someone of lower rank, but an ideal assignment for him in particular, because the appointed meeting place would be in the very village he grew up. The news had finally reached them: Ecthelion had slipped a letter to the king and queen, who in turn had slipped that message to Feorh, who in turn had slipped the message to them.
Aeron had ridden to the village—the very one Thorongil, Araedhelm, Théoden, and the rest of the men had stopped at after their escape—with all haste. Which had been completely unnecessary, as it had turned out. Ecthelion had given only a vague outline of time, a matter of hours, in which he would most likely arrive. Aeron had already been waiting for most of that time, sitting in the room of an inn that faced the road, watching incessantly.
The appointed place was "the inn," and since the inn he was in was the only inn in the small town, there was no question that he was at the right place. Thinking that sentence through was enough to make him dizzy, so he quit trying to make sense of it. Suffice it to say, he was at the right place. Ecthelion was running behind. Hopefully, he was just running behind, and nothing more ominous had happened.
He was so engrossed in worrying, he almost missed the arrival for which he'd been waiting.
Aeron had seen the Steward on a number of formal occasions, and in any case would have had no trouble recognizing the regal bearing of the tall, dark-haired man who was even now approaching the inn. Besides, with five similarly dark-haired and noticeably non-Rohirric men following closely in his wake, Ecthelion didn't exactly make a quiet entrance into the rural village. The Gondorians had at least made the attempt to be inconspicuous by not wearing their royal livery, and were even now obviously trying not to stand out. Which wasn't working very well. Several passersby stopped to gawk. Aeron winced. There would be gossip alright, he just hoped it stayed in the village until the crisis was over.
Aeron left the room, hurrying down the hall towards the inn's common room, which also happened to be the town's only tavern, entering just as Ecthelion was coming through the door. A "my Lord" was just on the tip of his tongue, but he stopped himself, glancing around with a smile at the several occupants of the room, and instead said simply, with a short nod of acknowledgement, "This way, if you will?"
Ecthelion returned the nod, and he and his men followed Aeron back to the room he'd been occupying.
Aeron gave a more formal bow as soon as the door was closed between them and curious eyes. "Second Lieutenant Aeron, at your service, my Lord."
"Thank you for meeting me here. I apologize for the wait. We encountered some…difficulties."
"Difficulties?" Aeron asked, worry flaring back to life.
"Nothing to endanger our plans." There was the strong suggestion of an added "I hope," but Ecthelion didn't go into details. "I have a wounded man, though, who will need to remain here. Two of my men will bring him into town after we've departed. I was hoping we could make a…subtle appearance." From his wry expression, Ecthelion was clearly aware they hadn't exactly accomplished their goal. "The rest of my men are taking a detour around through less populated areas, and will meet us closer to Edoras. Again…I thought it would be best if we didn't make our presence too conspicuous."
"A wise precaution, my Lord. Even if word were to somehow reach Edoras before us, they would only know of the presence of a handful of Gondorians, rather than an army. Even so, these are simple folk, and although word will spread, the rumors will most likely be blown out of proportion, and colorful to say the least—I know from experience. But although there will be much talking, I don't think it will be very widespread, at least not before we have an opportunity to act."
"Experience, you say?" There was a twinkle in Ecthelion's eyes. "I'm glad to hear it, though. Still, we should leave as soon as possible."
"Very good, my Lord."
The sight of the mysterious, dark-haired, men—who were clearly warriors of some kind—leaving so soon after their appearance, was the cause of more inquisitive glances and downright staring. Ecthelion and his men handled it all with dignity, as if they didn't even notice. Aeron—knowing and known to most of the village since childhood—found the march out of town a little more uncomfortable. There would be talking, and although his position in the army was general knowledge, he still wasn't looking forward to all the questions he'd have to answer on his next visit home.
---o—oOo—o---
"He should have been here an hour ago," Araedhelm grumbled, even while remembering not to raise his voice.
"Aeron will be here whenever he can, Araedhelm," Thorongil replied evenly. "We have until dawn."
"And if he doesn't get here until after dawn?" Araedhelm pressed.
"There'll be another one." Thorongil ignored his lieutenant's exasperated huff. "Granted, I'd rather not have to wait that long. However, dawn is a long way off. There is no need to start worrying as of yet."
"No hurry. Right. 'There'll be another one'," Araedhelm muttered, running his fingers over the hilt of his sword, and continuing to move steadily back on forth in the limited space.
The three of them—Thorongil, Araedhelm, and Mehdal—were stationed in the guards' watch above the gate. Mehdal had preformed a bit of magic for them already, pulling rank on the men given guard-duty that night, as he had earlier to get rid of the men in order to enter Araedhelm's house unobserved. Not that much rank-pulling had been required to force the men to "let" him have the undesirable duty, and he hadn't even felt the need to tell them not to speak of his having relieved them. If they received some unscheduled time off from their duties, why should they go spreading the word around instead of making themselves scarce before he had a chance to change his mind?
From his position on the floor, Thorongil tried to settle his back comfortably against the wooden slats that composed the walls. He'd given up trying to reform Araedhelm just days after meeting him; there would be no changing the lieutenant's generally restless temperament. Furthermore, at times like this it meant he didn't have to keep watch, or assign the task to someone else. There was no way Araedhelm would miss anyone's arrival.
Thorongil watched his lieutenant with some wonder, as he exerted enough energy for all three of them. It wasn't that he was without sympathy. There was something stirring in the air that night that might have made him pace too, if he weren't so intent on conserving his strength, trying to keep the poison in his veins at bay long enough to be of use to his friends. But the impetus of impending war was thick around them, like the damp "smell" of rain before a downpour. The quiet before the storm. It was probably just the impatience rolling off the three of them, but they all knew before the night was through many fates would be decided by what they could or could not accomplish.
Araedhelm's other pastime, in addition to pacing and complaining, and generally rumbling his displeasure, was shooting Mehdal suspicious glances. There was no way Mehdal was on his list of allies yet. Thorongil could see easily enough that the second source of Araedhelm's restlessness sprang from the fear that they were being pulled into a trap. He wasn't without reservations himself, but there came a point where they had to trust someone. If they didn't trust Mehdal, getting Ecthelion and his men in without being detected would probably be impossible. Come to think of it, even with Mehdal's help, it was still going to be a challenge. Sneaking a small army in through the front door was actually rather laughable to think about. But that was just what they were proposing to do.
"Captain, I think they're here."
The tentative knock that sounded on the door soon after sent Araedhelm hurrying down one of the flight of stairs that descended from either side of the lookout, Thorongil and Mehdal following composedly.
A breathless Aeron slipped in as soon as the door had been unlatched, and reported under his breath, "The Steward…and his men…not far behind me."
They waited silently, Aeron catching his breath and the rest of them listening, until muted footfalls could be heard approaching. Araedhelm opened the door partway once again, and a welcome face appeared, though shadowed by the hood pulled forward to partially conceal it.
"Lord Ecthelion," Thorongil greeted briefly. "I think it best the men split up into several groups. My Second Lieutenant can take some and move to the right," he nodded towards Aeron, "and Mehdal can take some to the left. They know the layout of Edoras, and can blend in quickly. We have made preparations, and I have already established a time for regrouping with both of them."
Deferring to Thorongil's leadership, Ecthelion nodded, sending whispered orders down the line as the rest of his men filed in quietly, moving efficiently but with an admirable amount of stealth, as they divided to follow Aeron and Mehdal. He knew full well he was hardly in a position to be making the overall decisions, comparably blind to the current condition as he was, and recognized that Thorongil had things as organized and planned as the conditions permitted.
"If you will come this way, my Lord, we can go to a place where we may speak in more privacy," Thorongil continued, after the last of the men had come through and Araedhelm had closed the gate again.
The three of them hurried through the darkened streets, Araedhelm leading them through less-frequented alleys and byways until they arrived at this house. Cwén had been waiting for them, and opened the door before they could even knock.
Discussion began immediately. Thorongil and Araedhelm led most of it at first, filling Ecthelion in on what they'd been planning, asking his opinion, and describing the layout of the important areas of both Edoras and Meduseld in as much detail as they could, with the aid of a few maps. Feorh had been back to visit a few times since Thorongil and Araedhelm's initial arrival, and had given them more detail on exactly what was going on in Meduseld, who was being held where, the condition of the king and queen, and so on. They in turn relayed everything to Ecthelion. After discussing further what their plan of attack would be—namely, attacking—they fell into silence. It felt awkward simply because it seemed there should be more to say.
Thorongil shook his head, refraining from running a hand over his face—yet another gesture the bruises on his face didn't appreciate. "That would seem to be it. We'll have to see how things go, count on the element of surprise, and think quickly on our feet."
Araedhelm was a little incredulous, though not displeased, to find all their decisions come so quickly to an end. With some amusement, he asked, "So, this would be your long thought-out plan, Captain?"
Thorongil's smile was enigmatic. "I've found from past experiences that the tighter your plan, the more likely you are to run into something unpredictable."
Ecthelion smiled as well. "Wisdom if ever I heard it. Shall we proceed to the meeting place?"
---o—oOo—o---
"The men are ready, and waiting for your orders," Aeron reported quietly.
Behind him, Mehdal nodded his agreement.
Where they stood outside the tavern their only light was that of the rising sun, which was presently just a faint, golden luminescence on the Eastern horizon. The five of them—Aeron, Mehdal, Thorongil, Ecthelion, and Araedhelm—had seen a few people going past, but the citizens of Edoras had become adroit at turning a blind eye toward all the strange things happening around them in recent days. After all, there wasn't much they could do about anything, and most of them had little idea what was actually going on.
"Aeron, you and Araedhelm will take two small groups—take ten men each—and begin scouring the city for Heolstor's men," Thorongil explained in as few words as possible. "There should be a number of sentries, but they should be scattered and easy to handle. Mehdal, you will be with the Steward and myself. I will need you to make your way to the dungeons as soon as we are inside, and free the prisoners. The guards do not know yet of your recent change of sides, which should make it easier. Take some men with you as well."
Aeron and Araedhelm both nodded, and headed off briskly. Soon, the main body of men Ecthelion had brought with him, along with those Rohirrim warriors who had been alerted and close enough to be gathered in time, began to emerge from the alleys, as well as the tavern and an inn a short distance down the street and across the way, one section streaming quietly along either side of the road. Ecthelion and Thorongil exchanged impressed glances. Mehdal and Aeron had done a good a job of finding places for the men to lay low and ways to blend in.
With a last nod of acknowledgement, Thorongil, with Mehdal at his side, moved quickly across the road to take charge of the other men, while Ecthelion took command of the men approaching on his side. The transition went more smoothly than they'd dared to hope it would.
Thorongil motioned to the men behind him to follow, and they began to procession up the steadily increasing slope towards Meduseld. As the silhouette of the building came into sight, Ecthelion gestured for his men to veer even further to the left, and Thorongil for his to follow him further to the right. They had decided beforehand that, obviously, the further they could get without being detected, the better. Instead of giving themselves instantly away by attacking via the main stairs, they moved their forces around to either side of the stone foundation Meduseld was built upon. It was still plenty dark, and they accomplished that much without being spotted. The next part—taking the two guards out without them making a noise—would be a little more precarious.
Thorongil had to chuckle inwardly at the thought. As if any of this wasn't precarious. All the years he'd been serving Rohan he'd been working to make sure Meduseld was secure. He never thought he'd be looking for a way to sneak forces in and then invade it.
Knowing the Steward would be doing the same on his side, Thorongil motioned to the men behind him to wait, then reached upward to grab the ledge that was the top of the stone foundation. Thankfully, it was as accessible as he'd estimated. Having to forgo all that was manly and dignified and ask one of his men for a hand up wasn't something he would have done with relish.
He was able to pull himself up without aid, though not without some hastily-concealed pain as his healing ribs and bruises protested against the movement. The ideally-situated entrance pillars hid him from the immediate view of the guards, and he stood behind one, catching his breath and begging his body not to betray him before this fight was over, while he waited for Ecthelion to appear on the other side and give the signal for them to attack.
The guards briefly saw what hit them with much surprise and gaping, but they never got their swords out of their sheaths before the hilts of Thorongil and Ecthelion's swords knocked them unconscious. Captain and Steward caught their first vanquished foes of the evening, and lowered them soundlessly to the ground, dragging them out of the doorway. They hurried back to motion to the men below to follow. With the guards out of the way, the rest of them could move more quickly by taking the stairs.
The halls inside were only dimly lit, most of the inhabitants still asleep, and the guards they first met were caught by surprise. But they weren't able to sustain the upper hand through stealth for long, as their first assault became a miniature battle against a few more men, and then more, until there was no use trying to be quietabout it.
"Thorongil—see to the King and Queen!" Ecthelion urged. "Quickly, before Heolstor can use them against us."
Thorongil nodded, sending Mehdal off towards the dungeons. He glanced around before slipping out of the fray and heading in the direction of the royal quarters, but couldn't see any soldiers not currently engaged in fighting who might be able to accompany him. Leaving now felt distastefully like fleeing, but he knew it was vital to reach Morwen and Thengel before Heolstor came to the same conclusion they had: that nothing short of a hostage was going to stop them. Besides matching approximately matching Heolstor's own men in numbers, their forces had more personal reasons to fight.
With head forward so that his features were not immediately discernable, he approached the two soldiers who stood guard over the door to the royal quarters. So far covert plans had served them well, and, although they might recognize him as one of the prisoners that escaped from the camp, if he could just delay that for a moment things might go quite smoothly.
"You! Who are you—what's going on out there?" one of them demanded, sounding nervous and ready to bolt—whether toward or away from the fight. Even back here, the noise of swords could be heard, echoing from the entrance.
Thorongil didn't pause in his stride as he approached the door. "I have a message for the King and Queen."
"Wait a minute, weren't you one of the—"
Now standing between them, Thorongil was perfectly situated to take both of them out with a crack of his hilt into the head of the speaker, and quickly succeeding punch aimed at the face of the second. He shook his head, incredulous, at the two slumped forms on the ground. Someone had to start teaching their men how to block a weapon or fist—or at least how to duck. Besides, you don't stop to ask an escaped prisoner if he actually was an escaped prisoner in the first place.
He stepped over one of the men, who'd sprawled across the doorway, and turned the knob.
"Thorongil?"
"Well, your Majesty, I've had many names given to me at various times, but as of now, yes, Thorongil would be the name I seem to be going by." Thorongil smiled at Morwen, something inside him relaxing at the sight of both of them still alive and reasonably well. Rohan's royal family might yet come out of this safely.
Both Morwen, and Thengel behind her, had stark relief on their faces. The queen was talking uncharacteristically quickly, words tumbling over each other, and Thorongil and Thengel's eyes met in greeting and amusement over the top of her head.
"We were so worried after the two of you disappeared, and then the message… I wanted to believe Feorh so badly when she brought us the news that you were both free, but I could hardly believe it, but now that I've actually seen you… Théoden is alright?" Morwen questioned pointedly.
"Yes," Thorongil replied firmly. "He is safe. I assigned some men to stay and watch him. But we should not linger here. Heolstor could come at any time." He noticed for the first time that not only were the two of them dressed in night-clothes with hastily donned robes pulled over, but there wasn't a weapon in sight. "Wait a moment." He stepped outside and relieved the guards of their swords and sheaths and then returned. "Here." He handed one to Thengel, and, with a smile and a courtly bow, one to Morwen. "My Lady Morwen Steel-Sheen, Shield-Maiden of Rohan and Gondor."
She pursed her lips in a mock-annoyance at the teasing title, buckling the belt and scabbard around her waist. Morwen was tall for a woman, but even at its tightest notch, the belt hung so low the end of the sheath nearly scraped the ground. She gave Thorongil a mild look of amusement. "Well, this is actually quite…" she shifted the belt with a wry expression. "…awkward. I think this 'Shield-Maiden' could use a shield." She knew, no matter the amount of practice, none of her lessons had prepared her enough for the real situation she now found herself in. Thengel may have shown her how to handle a sword, but it would be another matter if she had to swing a blade with the intent to kill, or be killed.
Thorongil held her gaze briefly. "I hope you won't have to use it at all, my Lady. Just a precaution." Thorongil motioned to them to go first into the adjoining room. He knew there were several exits from their quarters, and leaving in a different direction might be a good idea.
Morwen nodded, giving up on trying to adjust the ill-fitting piece of equipment and accepting Thengel's guiding hand on her arm. Her husband's protective presence beside gave her more confidence. And, of course, there was the fact that Théoden was finally safe.
Thorongil followed behind them. But, just as they were almost through the doorway, he heard the sound of footsteps outside the door. More then one or two sets. There was no way of knowing whether it was friend or foe, and Thorongil didn't relish the thought of waiting, endangering Thengel or Morwen to find out.
"Go," Thorongil whispered to Thengel.
"Thorongil—"
"My Lord, the best thing you can do right now is get yourself and Morwen somewhere safe and out of the way. We don't want another hostage situation. Please, go."
They barely left in time. The door slammed open, revealing the last face Thorongil wanted to see at that moment. Eru, I should have brought some men with me… The truth was, he'd thought this would be a quick procedure, and that if Heolstor came it would be alone. They'd already divided the men into so many sections, they'd needed all the men they had out there fighting… It was still a stupid thing to do. One of the stupider things you've done in what is soon to be your abruptly-ended career, his inner-voice derided. He didn't have time to beat himself up mentally. He had to fight with confidence, as if he expected to win. Heolstor was there, and decidedly not alone. At least he had gotten Morwen and Thengel out of there, and armed. He had to hold these men off, no matter what.
"I must admit, Captain, I had rather been expecting to find someone else here," Heolstor commented, entering the room with an entourage of four behind him.
Thorongil smiled grimly. The amount of uncharacteristically blank surprise on Heolstor's face was extremely gratifying. And at least delaying long enough for the king and queen to get further away shouldn't be a problem. Getting Heolstor to talk away a few minutes' time was never a difficulty, and apparently now that the cat was, figuratively, out of the bag, the man couldn't stop gloating—even if his plan was failing miserably.
"I'm sorry to disappoint you," he said shortly.
"Oh, I wouldn't exactly call it a disappointment. A surprise, certainly." Heolstor was recovering, mask of complete control back in place. If there was one thing he did not like, it was to appear out of control, emotionally or otherwise. In situations like this, he always purposed to hold back such melodramatic outbursts as, "I thought you were a prisoner!" or more relevant to the present circumstances perhaps, "You're supposed to be dying!"
Thorongil, none-the-less, saw the question flicker through his eyes. He couldn't help but smirk. "Your poison not quite as potent or lethal as you thought it was?" He knew it was—could feel its chill at the back of his mind—but he couldn't pass up the opportunity to play with Heolstor's mind a little.
Heolstor made a noise of irked rejection of the idea. "No. I don't think so. I'm not the one in denial, here. I know it's doing what it was created to do." He took a few steps closer to Thorongil, his men hovering at the ready in the background. "Either you've found a way to recreate the antidote…or else you must be coming to the end of what little antidote I had made. You took that, didn't you, before you left the camp? I must say, I'm dying to know how you escaped. But you probably won't have the time to tell me, will you?"
Thorongil didn't say anything, but met his gaze with complete evenness. It had always been a clash of wills between the two of them, even when they hadn't yet been declared enemies.
"You're dying, Thorongil. Very soon, you'll relapse and die a painful death. But I'm sure you've already figured that out." Heolstor nodded his head in the direction of the door, where the sound of swords clashing was becoming more distinct. "I'm afraid I have pressing business to attend to. But you have several choices here, Captain. You could kill me—or at least try to in your weakened condition. In that case, I may mercifully decide to give you a quick death at the end of my sword. Or, against all odds, you could win and kill me—and die from the poison. Your choice."
Thorongil drew his sword.
"I should have expected as much. I should have known better than to hope you'd ever see a situation from my point of view. Captain Thorongil…" Heolstor shook his head, sighing. "Noble, heroic…and such an unbelievable fool, right to the very end."
To be continued…
There's a paraphrased MacGyver quote in this last chapter, should anyone notice. (Hey, it's my MOM who likes RDA, and my bro who likes watching him blow things up. I, personally, think it's terribly contrived and corny. Really. –smiles innocently-)