Chapter 5: Assassin
Edoras, Rohan
Third Age 3021, February
-Rachel-
I had sent my replies to those letters with Ceorl over five weeks ago. No doubt the responses would be here soon, but that didn't make me any less agitated. Claire had yet to return to Rohan. I had thought she might return for Yuletide celebrations, but I hadn't seen her since she left with that swan-knight of her's, nor had she sent any word of where she was. Lothiriel's reasons for insisting she take a guard with her now made much more sense to me, however. It seemed unlikely that anything would happen with that moody guard of her's.
As for me, life went on. Advisors had me practically glued to Thèoden's desk with papers and invoices; notes on food, money, and trade. Speaking of that last one, Faramir, in his running of Minas Tirith, had insisted on upping the White City's trade with Edoras which resulted in what we were hoping would become an every-two-month-market in Rohan's capital. The market was where I spent my afternoon with Aaryn, Fingran, and Thalion.
Edoras had been greatly rebuilt since the Ring War. Of course, it had almost been two years since the end of that awful time and Thèoden had helped Edoras not only back to its previous state, but also to improvement.
Aaryn had encouraged me to get out of Meduseld and the barracks claiming it had been too long since I simply relaxed. Fingran had agreed, thinking a stroll through the markets would clear my head. And maybe he had been right since my mind kept drifting back to papers and Thèoden's study no matter what stall we happened to pass.
I had Thalion on a leash and my dog had decided it was his duty to lead us from stall to stall. In fact, we really didn't see much more than food stalls. Even one from Dol Amroth sporting an array of salty-smelling sea delicacies.
Aaryn's mother had set up a stall, hoping to attract some business. My frequent visits to her shop had drawn so much attention to the small store that I wondered how she could handle all of the extra business.
"I just don't understand how your mother's business grows simply because I shop there," I said to Aaryn.
"It is an occupational hazard, I'm afraid, my lady," Fingran said. "In fact, every stall you have stopped at today has grown in attention."
"But I haven't bought anything yet."
"Royals give attention, the people tend to listen," he said, a small grin on his face.
I rolled my eyes. "I'm not royal."
The old advisor let out a sigh. "You are a royal, my lady. I wish you would stop denying it."
I let out a huff but didn't argue the point. Lucky for me, Thalion had sniffed out yet another food stall.
Unlucky for me, no one saw what happened next coming.
Thalion was tugging me though the crowd of people. I had been trying to teach him how to heel and it hadn't been going very well. In the bustle of it all, I barely heard a man's voice cry, "Lady Rachel!" before it happened. A large body plowed into my own and my hand lost its grip on Thalion's leash. On the way down, the large person grunted as he landed on top of me. Women were screaming and I couldn't move as I was pinned by the large body.
"Rimbon!" I shouted, identifying the man who had pulled me to the ground. "What in Bema's rear-end were you thinking?"
But then I saw it. The arrow sticking out of his shoulder, piercing him though his chainmail.
My head darted to the rooftops, thinking that the only place an assailant could have struck. There was no one there. Rimbon and the rest of my guard had been tailing me and I could spot only one of them now. The others must have gone after whoever did this.
"Are you hurt, milady?" Rimbon muttered from behind gritted teeth.
"Am I hurt? You just got shot!"
"It's a flesh wound. You've treated these before."
"Rimbon, you could have been killed!"
"That is my job, milady. I saw the bastard on a rooftop, his bow aimed at your heart."
I wanted to argue that he should have let me die, but what good would that do? At least he was alive. At least we both were. If he had died…Gods, I don't know if I could have handled that.
"Fingran," I called to the advisor. He looked shaken, but his years of service shown one his face. He lived through Grima Wormtongue. He could handle this. "Rimbon needs a stretcher. He should be taken to Meduseld. Where's Aaryn?"
"She ran after your lurcher, my lady. I'll send for a stretcher."
I nodded, helping Rimbon onto his back. He winced with the movement in his shoulder, the arrow's fletching sticking out like a nasty flag. But his eyes landed on my face and he chuckled.
"This isn't funny," I quipped.
"Tis your face, milady. You look…well, angry."
"My guardsman just got shot and we don't have the perpetrator. Yes, I'm angry."
"But not because there was an attempt on your life?"
"I haven't made it that far yet," I said, earning another chuckle.
"We'll catch the bastard, milady," Wulfgard, the Rider who had remained behind said. "He couldn't have gotten far. Rimbon wasn't the only one who saw him."
"Did you see him, Wulfgard?" I asked.
"Nay, milady. Tis why I stayed behind."
I nodded. The people in the market square were calming down now, and Wulfgard looked anxious as a few started to approach me and Rimbon.
Many of these people were not of Edoras, nor of Rohan. After all, it was market day and many of them were travelers from Gondor. A few were even from Dale. Lucky for me, Fingran and the stretcher arrived, along with two stable hands to help carry Rimbon to Meduseld.
"My lady, we should get you inside the Golden Hall," Fingran insisted.
"Not until Aaryn or the assassin is found. I'll not leave her out here alone."
"A wise choice, Under-king," a new voice said. A man clad in black and maroon robes over chainmail and a breastplate stood in the shadow of a building. His clothes contrasted vastly to the dusting of snow flurries on the ground. His face was obscured by a maroon cloth, albeit his eyes, dark and cold. Worst of all, against his breastplate, Aaryn was held there, a knife to her throat.
"Tis a pity that I may spill such pretty blood," he taunted. "But without any collateral for my life, one must make the best of a tight situation."
"What do you want?" I asked, giving Aaryn a hard stare. Keep calm, don't freak out.
The Easterling's eyebrow raised. "Is it not simple? Call off your guardsmen. Clearly, I have been bested in my mission, but I will not go down alone. If they advance, your friend is dead."
"She's not my friend," I lied, praying this would work. "She's my handmaiden. Just a pawn—," but I was cut off as he pressed the knife harder on Aaryn's throat.
"You're eyes betray you, Under-king. That is the price you pay for keeping your loved ones so close. One day, they may be taken from you. Just look at your King and his brat nephew. Perhaps you should have kept them a bit closer, though. They might have been better off."
"He lies," Wulfgard snarled. "Milady, he attempts to trick you. Do not fall for it."
But I couldn't listen. What was I supposed to do? This Easterling had Aaryn by the throat and claimed something had happened to Éomer and Thèoden. Uncle and Fingran had prepared me for so much, but they had never prepared me for this. What was the protocol? Who would save her? Should I just let him go?
Before I could even get my thoughts straight though, circumstances changed in my favor. Out of nowhere, an arrow pieced the Easterling's arm, causing him to drop his knife. Aaryn made a run for it, landing into Wulfgard as the remainder of my guardsmen made for the assassin, ripping the arrow from his arm and tying his hands behind his back.
My head whipped backwards landing on a familiar face. Helisa, my star pupil, had her bow at her side, a look of satisfaction on her face. Oh, that girl was getting a super big to-be-determined prize after all this.
The people in the square had been so silent, you could have heard a pin drop. Now, they had started bustling. Wulfgard was supporting a still-terrified Aaryn as he walked over to me. "We must get you into Meduseld quickly, milady. The Easterling is being taken to the dungeons."
I nodded, moving quickly behind the Riders that had the Easterling secured. Helisa was still watching the scene with her bow at her hip. I didn't know how I was going to repay the young maiden, but I would see to it as soon as I figured out what the hell had just happened.
Back at the Golden Hall, the advisors were in a frenzy.
"You won't be going to the markets any more, my lady," Dorwine said, pacing the room.
"We can't keep the Under-king a prisoner in her own Hall," Fingran said.
"It is not her Hall!" Hemonbold shouted, earning a few chaste looks from the rest of the room. He cleared his throat and turned to me. "Forgive me, my lady."
"Look," I said, keeping my breathing slow and deep in an attempt to sway the headache I felt coming. "Obviously, we're never going to agree on anything. So, let's put it aside until we've all calmed down a bit." I turned to Fingran. "What do we do about the Easterling?"
"He'll need to be questioned, though it is highly unlikely he will say anything. But he will have to be executed."
I felt the twisting sensation in my stomach clench at his solution. "Is that really necessary?"
All of them looked at me in shock. Even Hemonbold was surprised. "My lady," he said. "That foreigner tried to murder you in the middle of the market square. Our laws are strict on this matter."
"And I can assure you," Fingran said. "That Thèoden King would not hesitate for a moment on this matter. Were communication easier, I'm sure he would sentence the assassin's life, especially since you were the target."
"But execution?" I muttered, wrapping my arms around my chest. "It seems so…barbaric."
"It is the only way to impose justice," Dorwine said. "Let this slide and more will take his place. He must face the consequences of his actions. It is not barbaric, it is enforcement."
I had never really given capital punishment much thought. Of course, I knew it happened here, but I had never been party to it. I had never had to give the "okay". Back home, it happened, but I had never even stepped in that territory. Yeah, the guy had tried to kill me. Yeah, I was pissed. But I could think of crimes much worse than this. Was this really a thing to warrant a man's death? It wasn't even an eye-for-an-eye situation. He didn't kill anybody.
"My lady," Fingran said, bringing me out of my thoughts. "I understand that this is not something you were prepared for. We do not have to make the call just yet. Perhaps you can sleep on it and we will discuss it further in the morning."
I nodded, thanking him with my eyes. "The girl who shot the Easterling in the market? Her name is Helisa. She's one of my pupils. I would see her rewarded for her aid," I said to Dorwine. He was the royal treasurer and in charge of that kind of stuff.
"Of course. And what would the reward be?"
I hadn't really thought of that. "Let's call her to the Hall and ask her."
Dorwine nodded and walked out of the study. As he left, Wulfgard was at the other side of the door.
"What is it, Wulfgard?" Hemonbold asked, ushering in the Rider.
"Rimbon is in recovery, milady," he said, stepping into the room. "The arrow missed anything important. The healers say he should be fine by the morning."
"That's a relief," I said, slumping back in my chair. Rimbon's wellbeing had not been lost from my mind. I don't know what I would have done if anything had happened to him. "How is Aaryn?"
"Shaken, but that is to be expected. I escorted her to her mother's house. Mistress Gillwen was in a great distress but we managed to calm them both down. I sent Gareth to stay with them for the night. I hope that is fine?"
"It's a good idea, Wulfgard. I'll check on them in the morning. Aaryn doesn't need to come back to Meduseld until we've taken care of the Easterling."
"I will let her know, milady."
With a small bow, he exited the room. I still wasn't okay with any of this by a long shot.
"My lady," Fingran muttered. "What is on your mind?"
He wasn't gonna like it. "I want to talk to him," I said.
"Who?" Hemonbold asked, but he knew exactly who I meant.
"The Easterling."
"Absolutely not," Fingran said.
"If it were Thèoden in my place, he wouldn't have even asked."
"You may be Under-king, but you are not the King."
"And if it were Éomer sitting in my place, you would not deny him either. I want to talk to him, Fingran."
"Why is that?" he demanded.
"Because if I'm going to sign the man's death warrant, I'm going to at least know his name first!" I shouted, rising from my chair.
The old advisor looked taken aback by my abruptness. Hemonbold looked amused. I took a deep breath and steadied myself. "The fact of the matter is, you can't keep me from talking to him. He is behind bars and cannot hurt me. I'm going down there. When Helisa gets here, please send for me."
I marched out of the room and made my way to a part of Meduseld I had never entered. I never had any need to go to the dungeons. Any prisoners Rohan had housed since the war were unimportant to me. In fact, it never even crossed my mind that I would ever have to come down here.
It was dank. Dank, wet, and cold. The floor was simply solid earth, too cold to dig through. The cells were made from iron. Rohirrim didn't often work with iron outside of weaponry, so I knew these bars meant business. The area was lit by torches. And there was only one other person there with me.
I saw his face for the first time. His pitch-black hair fell over his shoulders in untamed curls. His beard was thick and just as black as the rest of his hair. A white cloth had been haphazardly wrapped around the arrow wound in his bicep. When he noticed me, his brown eyes jolted in my direction, surveying me as I was surveying him. His breastplate had been taken as well, revealing a thin body.
He nodded his head in my direction. "Under-king," he greeted.
I grabbed a small, wooden stool and carried it closer to the Easterling, taking a seat upon it. "Do you even know my real name?"
"Excuse me?"
"My name. You've only addressed me as Under-king."
"They call you Rachel, do they not? A strange name. And a strange title you bear. Bowmaiden. Does the title live up to its name, though? Women in my land do not handle weaponry. Are you as good as your people boast?"
I crossed my legs. "I'm decent."
He chuckled. "Practically a rival to the Elvish folk, they say. They did not tell me you were humble."
"Who's 'they'?"
He sighed, leaning his head against the wall. "I suppose it doesn't matter now."
I raised an eyebrow, wondering if I had wasted a trip. He wasn't answering any of my questions. But I had to try. "What's your name?" I asked.
It was his turn to cock an eyebrow. "Is that not also one of those things that no longer matters?"
"I don't like calling you 'the Easterling' or 'the assassin' in my head."
"You shouldn't name what you plan to kill. You will only get attached."
"You can't expect to live after what you did," I stated.
He shook his head. "I knew I had no chance of killing you the minute that guard of yours saw me on the rooftop. But I still had to try. And when I failed, escape was impossible. I had two expectations coming into this job. Kill you and die for the consequence or fail to kill you and escape. Please understand that failing and getting caught was not something I had in mind."
He spoke to me about this as if we were discussing something trivial. And I was confused as hell. "You're very cooperative about this."
"What can I say, Under-king? I have very little to lose now that I am in this unexpected position."
"Then why not tell me your name?"
"Is it really so important?"
"Yes. I can't explain why, but yes, it's important."
He let out another sigh. "You would rather question me about my name than what I said to you in the market square about your husband and king?"
"I don't believe you were telling the truth on that front," I said. "And you weren't, were you?"
"Oh, no, Under-king. As I've said, I knew I had been caught. What was the point in lying?"
"What are you saying?"
"Exactly what I said in the market. I don't think I will repeat it."
I was getting nowhere with this guy. And I highly doubted I would. "Fine, then." I muttered, slumping against my knees.
He continued to stare at me. I don't know why I didn't just leave. Perhaps I thought I could get more out of him. "Do you truly come from a different world?" he muttered. It was so quiet, I barely heard him.
I lifted my eyes, meeting his own. "I do. It's not a secret either."
For the first time his eyes left my face. "In my land, you were but a rumor. Three girls from another world, hell-bent on destroying ours. The Mouth of Sauron spoke many things that you would say are lies."
"You wouldn't? You don't even know my side of the story."
"I don't need to, Under-king. Did you know Easterlings from Khand fought on the Pelennor Fields? Not I, of course. No one allied with the Dark Lord survived that battle. But it was not only Haradrim Men."
"I didn't know that," I admitted. "I was a bit distracted by the Uruk-hai and the Mumakil. Not to mention the Witch-king."
"The one they said no living Man could kill," he said, his voice still soft. "I often wondered if that was true as well. Did you truly slay an immortal creature?"
"If you believe he was immortal," I countered.
A grin passed over his face. "Where are the other two? The girls who came here with you?"
I raised an eyebrow. "Why?"
"Mere curiosity."
I shook my head. "I'm not answering your questions if you don't answer mine. I haven't even asked anything vital. I could have come down here and asked who sent you. All I want to know is your name."
"As I have said, Under-king, it is trivial."
"It's not trivial to me. Upstairs they're telling me you need to be slaughtered for what you did. They don't even see you as a person. I don't know your circumstances for coming here. I can't save you from the fate you've given yourself, but perhaps it would be less painful to know that someone up there sees you as a human being and not a monster." I stood then, running my fingers over the front of my tunic. "I'm going to go reward the girl who shot your arm. Then I'm going to the house of the woman you held hostage. For the rest of the day, I will be patching your mistakes. Give that a thought or two while you sit down here waiting for the inevitable."
I headed for the door and walked out. Just as I was about to close the heavy thing, I heard him speak, so soft, it might not have happened.
"Obarin. My name is Obarin."
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