...
~ More Meetings ~
The Captain and his men raced southward across the last stretch, as the winged steeds came at them, swooping down and lifting up again. Not far from the city gate all but one were thrown from their panicked horses. The leader among them turned to help round up the rest.
Elraen spied this unfolding as she approached the gate from the east. She donned all her armor and pulled her sword, and spurred Sunstreak to a sprint, as the creatures swooped ever closer. She reached the scattered group of soldiers and turned her great horse about, raising her shield. The creature nearly crashed into her, scraping at the shield before backing away again. Swiftly she stood up in the stirrups and swung her sword at its feet, but a moment too late.
Elraen looked up at the Lieutenant flying above, and he looked at her, and indeed seemed to remember their last encounter. His dimmed wraith view saw now eyes gleaming softly and a very faint flame kindling around her. The foes hovered up above, as if calculating whether to dare getting much closer. Elraen closed her eyes and slowly raised her arms, sword still in hand. A stiff breeze began to blow upward against the beasts' wings from below, and they struggled against it, lifting them steadily, as the thrown men scrambled back on their feet and searched for their horses. Just then out came Gandalf, waving his glittering staff, and Elraen's sword seemed to catch the light and glow in her hand, and with the stab of his ray of light the Riders in the air at last gave way and flapped off.
At last there was a moment of calm upon the field. The Captain went over to Gandalf as his men gathered themselves back up, and he noticed the strange young rider was but a young maiden when she removed her helm, and began tucking away her sword and shield. He was silent a moment, seeing closely now the mysterious stranger who appeared on the field just in time, followed by Mithrandir. In such striking armor and attire she looked more like a princeling squire of the Noldor had just stepped out of the Elder Days. "And you must be the Lady Elraen," he said.
She looked at him in surprise, then realized that by now he could have heard of her from any number of sources. "Lord Faramir," she replied with a bow of her head, "it is my honor."
"Come along now! Let us get inside," urged Gandalf, and they headed up toward the hall of Denethor. Elraen followed behind Gandalf and Faramir to the hall of the Steward, and news spread quickly of a lady knight and heiress of the royal house, in company of the wizard. At the Citadel they dismounted, where at the door to the hall Faramir had noticed in surprise the young hobbit Peregrin as they entered.
Elraen stood near the wizard in his chair, and Pippin wondered at how unweary she looked for such a trial as he saw them all endure out on the field, for the Captain looked so weary Pippin wondered if he was taking ill. The heated discussion between the Steward and the wizard spun around again. "And you, girl, you had my son's attention," the lord said, turning to her. "What say you?"
She looked over surprised and confused. Attention? What did he mean by that? Elraen thought back on the journey, remembering the last moment when he handed her the medallion. She wondered if she was blushing.
Faramir was taken off guard. Any choice at all would be a surprise for the brother he remembered, let alone one so young. But thinking back on her display out on the field, it wasn't hard to see why, on the surface at least, for though but a fair young lady she had some battlefield courage and hardiness, not surprising considering her upbringing in Rohan. And, remembering his father's pressure upon his brother to find a bride, he also understood that she was now known to be the highest ranking maiden among what little remained of the Royal House. That would be a less surprising factor in his brother's thoughts on such a subject.
"Well, Lord Denethor," Elraen began slowly, feeling suddenly a little flustered. She thought back to the Council of Elrond. "From the start Boromir stated his belief that this thing should be used and not hidden or destroyed. The Wise all feared to take it for any reason, but Boromir had no such fear, even when he should have. But, I think, he was humbled in the end."
A silence fell over the room for a long moment. Faramir looked at her curiously, for her words indeed sounded heavy with long years as Frodo had described. As she spoke he strangely found himself feeling a bit cheerier and a little less weary for the moment. Something about her fair but grim words made him wish to meet the Elves of whom Frodo had spoken. Beneath the surface he could see a humility that lacked ambition, dutiful but thoughtful, which made him think of the prestigious watch guards of the Citadel. She stood by the wizard solemn and grave, yet with a curiously calm and light quality to her manner, as though somehow in her brief past she had been through far worse than the terror and gloom now assaulting the city, and challenging the witch servants of Sauron asked of her no more bravery than swatting at nuisance little bats fluttering about at dusk. An image flashed in his mind of the royals of old Numenor in their might and majesty, more so the early kings and queens in their joy and contentment, and how they must have looked on their thrones. Faramir wondered how the heir of Isildur might impress him when he came.
As he thought about the strange wind on the field to which she seemed to have some strange connection, he wondered if she could be related to the wizard somehow. 'An absurd idea,' he thought to himself with a shake of his head.
The Steward brushed it off. "Bah!" he hissed dismissively. "More wizard's words!" Elraen gazed down at the floor in defeat, and grief for all that had occurred from Rauros Falls to the present moment was clear on her face, and the argument between the two old men continued.
Afterward she caught up to the steward's new heir. "Lord Faramir, would you grant me a moment?"
He paused and looked at her inquisitively.
"I have something for you. Your brother handed it to me ere we were parted," she said, reaching into her tunic pocket. She pulled out the pendant on its chain and held it out to him. "Your father would not take it. He seemed to think you would prefer it."
He paused in surprise at the sight of it, and his face softened. He reached out and held it a long moment. "It was our mother's," he said, barely above a whisper. "I didn't realize he carried this."
"Boromir was an ambitious and feisty boy," he continued after pausing to gaze at it, "delighting only in stories of war and victory in battle. So our mother would tell stories of the seafaring captains of Gondor who would bring the fight to the men of the far south. This pendant is a tribute to the parents of Elros, and the seal of Dol Amroth, where descendants of Gondor's great captains still live. It is an heirloom of her father's house, and a symbol of the might and glory of Gondor at the height of its power."
Such a gift at such a moment would have come from a more genuine place than simply ambition for more status and power, Faramir thought to himself. His brother must have indeed been humbled in his last breath, after all. He stepped forward and lifting it over her head to hang it about her neck he continued, "You see, he could have given you any number of tokens of the Steward's house to return to us. Nay! He gave this to you, because he wanted you to have it."
Elraen looked up at him speechless, and gazed at the medallion in her hand, surprised and touched and her grief renewed. She had found Boromir a fair and valiant man, who, until the end at least, had always behaved honorably. She had pity for the Mortals, and judged not Boromir's misgivings over the decisions of the council, and had borne his loss heavily.
"May I see it?" he asked, changing the subject. "The sword, that is."
She gave a sigh and a sad smile and unhooked the sword to hand it to him.
"It has long been anyone's guess what became of this," he said looking it over in wonder. He pulled it out, and he could tell just by the look of the blade that this was no forgery. He resheathed it and skimmed the names listed on the scabbard. "The Princess Miriel, of course," he uttered in near a whisper. So there was indeed another that could have asserted a claim after Earnur's death. Gondor had never accepted inheritance of rule to women, he knew well, however Miriel had also married a descendant of the brother of an earlier king. This heir standing before him now was again another daughter, still her claim was better than any he had yet heard of, among the families in the South at least.
"Your ancestors kept it well," he said quietly as he handed it back. "I am greatly curious to meet the other heir, as well," he added, watching her face carefully.
"Yes," she replied softly, "he is the finest and best of men. He will make a good king."
"And you?" he asked. "You've had no thought for it?"
She smiled and shook her head. "I'm just here to help."
*.*.*
A short while later she stopped by Gandalf and Pippin's quarters to confer with them. "Your words were kind yet true," said Gandalf when she entered during their conversation about Frodo. "But both father and son I fear are the proud sort more vulnerable to traps of the enemy, in spite of best efforts and intentions."
She sighed. "Yes, I think you are right."
"Cirith Ungol!" said Gandalf in distress. "Why there?"
"What is your fear over this place?" she asked.
The wizard looked at her, guessing that if he told her what worried him she would become most anxious to head there straight away to deal with it herself, and help the ring bearer through the Dark Land as she had proposed weeks ago. He did find that idea not without merit, but couldn't chance her drawing attention to where they least wanted it, which she may well be likely to do.
He shook his head. "Naught to be done for it now," he said. "We must now do our best from here," and finished his conversation with Pippin.
Elraen wondered what he meant by all of it. She wasn't sure she wanted to hear the answer. "How could Lord Denethor possibly know so much already?" she asked, changing the subject.
"There could be many ways. He could be receiving messages, or be like some of the men of Westernesse of old who had the gift of very far sight." But Gandalf already suspected but feared the answer, but spoke no further on that, either.
Later that day the wizard was able to introduce her to Prince Imrahil. "I remember rumor of your father at least, and I do remember some encounters with the mixed peoples of South Ithilien, who were for the most part wiped away, slain or scattered, I'm afraid. In any case your foster father's fears were understandable, but may have been excessive, I think," he said to her. "Though I admit I cannot say for sure. Any heirs to the royal line would have been quite vulnerable in territory as contested as the region around Pelargir. Lord Artamir seems to have done well in any case."
The lost heiress wondered how things might have turned out had she been raised among kin in Gondor. She supposed everything turned out as it was meant to.
*.*.*
In the morning hour after the Council meeting Gandalf came to her door again and asked her to follow Faramir to Osgiliath and keep watch over him and his forces there. "For we need only to keep the enemy distracted as long as possible, and for that we need not waste very many lives," said Gandalf. For her part though she found the Steward's new heir worthy of protection she still wondered if the wizard could simply think of no other way to make use of her. However she also remembered similar requests through the ages from the Lord of the Waters, and the King himself Lord of the Winds, and the Queen of Light, and others, and remembered these were such tasks that had defined her long history. Taking her elf horse from the stables once more she dashed away toward the river.
