Chapter 114
The Strength of Faith
War was unavoidable. It was unavoidable in Gondor and it was unavoidable in the North. Thoren and his troops had a little time to pick themselves up off the floor, but their numbers, supplies and courage were all depleted. Thoren did what he could for those wounded he had been able to save: he sent them back home. Dáin Ironfoot he sent with them. Officially Dáin was there to oversee the operation, but both the King under the Mountain and the Lord of the Iron Hills knew better what it was about. Neither of them said so much as a word about it.
The armies of Mordor had at last resumed some measure of discipline. The Nazgûl had re-established their authority. That had not been an easy task, but they had got there in the end. Now they prepared to vanquish the Free Folk Alliance once and for all.
They were fairly optimistic about their own prospects. This is understandable. They far outnumbered Thoren's beleaguered troops and, even as they prepared to move north once again, regiments of latecomers joined them. These latecomers consisted only partly of orcs. The majority was made up of slow-moving and dim-witted trolls and their handlers. Trolls can sprint if they must, but their natural pace is nearer a slow lumbering than a brisk march.
In Erebor itself the people could only guess at what was happening, but they prepared for the worst anyway. Still, seeing Duria return home in the state she was in gave them a bit of a nasty shock…
Cathy
'She's back.'
This was all the information Cathy received from her intruder before Thulfa disappeared again, leaving Cathy no choice but to follow after her to see it all for herself. Having said that, there was only one female that she knew who'd been gone and could return.
Thank the Maker.
These past days she'd continuously second-guessed herself and the wisdom of sending Duria on the road to carry such a vital message. The lands were unsafe. Duria's skills of self-defence left an awful lot to be desired. So did her sense of direction. What if she'd become lost and rode right into the heart of an Easterling encampment, thinking it was their people's?
Well, thank the Maker she's home.
It was one less thing to worry about.
And now I'll lock her up before I let her go out again, she vowed in silence. What's with my nearest and dearest forever hurling themselves into harm's way? At this rate she'd be as grey as Uncle Dori before the year was out.
She stopped herself there. 'Maker be good, I'm even starting to think like her.'
This war was doing things to her. It was turning her into an old fusspot and that had always been more Uncle Dori's specialty than hers. Then again, she was only stepping into the breach Duria had created. Her sister was notoriously unreliable of late.
Thulfa had already arrived at the gates when Cathy got there at last; her walking pace was severely hampered by her pregnancy these days. Running was now out of the question entirely, just when she really wanted to do so.
It appeared as though Thulfa had been a bit too hasty with announcing that Duria was back, because when Cathy arrived just seconds behind Jack, two bedraggled figures were only just being let in through the gates.
Cathy stopped dead in her tracks. Maker be good, what has happened to them? She looked closer. And where in Durin's name is Thorli?
Nothing about this looked even remotely good. Duria herself was covered from top to toe in dirt and blood. Very little of that could possibly be her own, otherwise she would not have been able to walk here all this way. No ponies were in evidence, so it seemed reasonable to assume that she had indeed walked. Where have the bloody beasts gone?
Duria's companion was not the one she had sent out with her. Flói had taken his place. Would that this shed any light on the situation, but it did not. Of course that didn't stop Jack, who exclaimed his delight at being reunited with his cousin and bodily lifted him off the ground in a hug.
Well, at least one of us is pleased.
When Flói was finally released he caught sight of her. 'Cathy!' he hailed her at a volume loud enough to wake the dead. He walked at her and made to embrace her, before realising the state of him and stepping back. 'I would have greeted you properly, cousin, but then you'd have to take a bath.'
She gave him a critical once over. 'Only one bath?' He was at least as dirty as Duria. Now that she saw him up close, she noted the clumps of mud in his hair and the blood splattered all over his clothes.
He laughed at that. 'Fair enough,' he granted. 'Then again, you'd be filthy too if you'd had a little fight with three of our cast-out traitors on the road.'
'You what?'
'We encountered three of them on the road,' Flói reported. 'They meant to do us harm, so we set them to rights.' He grinned. 'Duria acquitted herself well, I must say.'
Cathy remembered how Duria had fought on the night Harry nearly died and did not doubt it for even a moment. Her sister was not a lady to cross lightly.
'Where in Durin's name is Thorli?' she demanded. 'Glad as I am to see you, it was another cousin that I sent out to accompany my sister. You are not him.'
'Aye, I know,' Flói nodded cheerfully. Her displeasure never made so much as a dent in his good humour. 'It's a sorry state of affairs, I'll have you know.'
'How so?'
'Well, as it happened Thorli staged a little mutiny,' Flói narrated. 'Once at the place of destination he absconded and refused to return, against his King's orders too. Mind you, I didn't much fancy leaving either, but I'm the dutiful sort who does as he's told.'
Jack chuckled. 'Since when?'
'Time immemorial,' Flói countered.
'I suppose that goes to show that your memory is not all that it used to be,' Jack retorted, never missing a beat. 'As you said, it's a truly sorry state of affairs. I ought to take you to see your mother and ask if she can't give you something to sort you out.'
It was almost miraculous, this change in Jack mere moments after Flói had stepped through the gates. Already he was more light-hearted than she had seen him in weeks, save for those times she'd seen him in Harry's company. If only for that reason she was pleased to find that Flói was the one who'd returned.
He's good for Jack. He always has been.
Jack was not one who made friends easily, but Flói had always slipped past Jack's defences without seemingly ever trying. And now Harry has done the same.
Her brother and cousin quite naturally embarked on a mission of good-natured mutual verbal abuse to which Cathy had nothing to add, so she turned to her sister, who was deep in conversation with Thulfa.
That'd have to wait. 'Could I have a moment with my sister, please?' she requested.
Thulfa did indeed excuse herself, leaving Cathy alone with Duria. Up close she looked even worse than from a distance, but that was only because from said distance it was not quite possible to see the multitude of bruises and scratches, including the one across her throat that suspiciously looked like someone had been about to slice her throat in order to end her life.
'Good to see you,' she said.
Duria only nodded in response and then side-stepped the concern Cathy was about to bestow on her by reporting on the mission. 'The message is delivered,' she announced.
Cathy grinned and made an announcement of her own: 'And the army that would have threatened our people is defeated.' She gestured vaguely in Jack's direction. 'Jack made sure of that.'
It was not often that folk trumped Duria in anything. Even if they did, it was not long before she got the upper hand back. It was no different this time: 'Thoren has as good as wed the elf without actually signing a contract and saying the vows.'
That rendered her speechless for a moment.
Then: 'He what?'
For Durin's sake! It was one thing to speculate about the possibility. She'd seen how the two of them acted around each other. Cathy had even seriously considered the prospect that it might one day become a reality. It was not this concept that she had a problem with, but there was a proper way to go about such things. One did not go into war, jump into bed with one's intended and then conveniently forget about the consequences.
Then again, that's what adad and amad did. Thoren was forever wishing for their counsel even now, so was it any wonder at all that he had followed their example?
Oh, for Durin's sake!
'I found him in bed with her when I arrived in camp,' Duria reported, looking thoroughly displeased with these developments.
Cathy could picture the scene only too well. She glossed over the idea of her brother in bed with the elf – too uncomfortable to dwell on for long – and instead painted a vivid picture of Duria's complete mortification at finding Thoren in such a compromising position. She could also imagine Thoren's horror at having his sister walk in on a very intimate moment. It was probably a miracle neither of them had died of the embarrassment.
'Well…'
'Nothing is well about this at all!' Duria said with feeling. 'I can't think what he was thinking when he chose to do this, but…'
'I think that's rather simple,' Cathy interjected. She did not necessarily approve of the way Thoren went about it – so much for learning lessons from the past – but his motivations were not hard to understand. 'He loves her. And she loves him.'
She did not honestly believe that there was more to it than that. She had eyes in her head after all, with which she could observe what was happening around her. At first she'd thought it was mere friendship, but that was before the battle, Thoren's injury and subsequent refuge in Mirkwood. It was there that something had changed, where friendship had deepened into a more lasting companionship. All of a sudden where one would go, the other would follow. There were little private jokes and communications without words. It might have been some time since she had seen such a thing play out before her eyes, but Cathy's memory was in fine shape. Her own parents had enjoyed similar dynamics between them.
It shut Duria up nicely, just long enough in fact for Uncle Ori to involve himself in the conversation. 'It is done,' he announced triumphantly, appearing at Duria's elbow, waving a very official looking document as though it were a flag and he were the conquering hero. 'Signed and sealed into law.'
'What is?' Duria demanded.
Cathy didn't ask. She rather thought she knew what this was all about. 'May I see?' she requested, taking just a little bit of pleasure that just for once she knew something that Duria did not. It wouldn't last, so she'd better enjoy it now.
'See what?' Duria's natural curiosity asserted its dominance. She tilted her head in order to try and read a the waving parchment. Judging by the look of unadulterated frustration on her face it wasn't going well.
Ori must know exactly how frustrating this must be for Duria, but he played along for now. With a slightly mischievous grin he managed to avoid his niece's grasping hands and handed the thing to Cathy instead, lightly batting Duria's hands away on the way back. 'Careful. You'll get dirty fingerprints all over it.'
'Oh, for Durin's sake!' Duria said. 'May I see?'
'Just a moment,' Cathy said. She looked over the document and found that the page contained exactly what she thought it would. 'That's very good.'
The whole exchange had drawn the attention of the others. 'What is?' Flói asked interestedly. 'Oh, hello, adad.'
By now Duria must be near boiling with impatience. Even Jack, who hadn't said anything so far, gave her a questioning look. She pretended to be so lost in her reading that she did not see it, so he turned to Ori instead. 'Please tell us what is in that document before my sister combusts.'
Ori looked every inch the cat who at long last finally got the cream. He pushed his glasses onto his nose and assumed a solemn air that would not have been out of place on Uncle Dori. 'It is with great pleasure that I can now tell you that you have another brother. Congratulations, my lad.'
Jack and Flói blinked in complete incomprehension.
Duria on the other hand was not called the cleverest one in their family without good cause. Barely had the last word left Ori's mouth before the dots connected in her mind. 'Oh,' she said. 'Oh!'
'Care to share, Duria?' Jack asked.
'Elvaethor!' she said, before turning to Cathy. 'It is, isn't it?'
Well, she had guessed now. 'So it is,' Cathy agreed, finally holding up the document in question for Duria's inspection. 'There's six of us now.'
Jack chuckled. 'We might as well have waited until Thoren weds Elvaethor's sister and call him kin regardless.' But the wide smile belied the mockery of the words.
We've always been fond of Elvaethor. He'd been around so often during their childhoods that she honestly could not remember a time when she went for months on end without seeing him. Slowly but surely he had wormed his way into the Lonely Mountain. Most dwarves had been only too pleased to assist him in that endeavour. When it appeared as though he ran out of excuses to deny Thranduil his return, the dwarves went out of their way to ensure that there was enough to do to keep him busy for months.
Now we'll never have to do that again, she thought, feeling mightily pleased. He belongs with us now.
'He chose kinship with us first,' Duria insisted. Evidently she still was not sold on the idea of having a sister-in-law in Tauriel. 'It's only right we make it official.'
'And I'll gain another cousin,' Flói remarked. 'You cannot have too many of those.'
Jack grinned at him. 'I wouldn't be so sure I'd want more of the likes of your brother.'
Who would? Lifur surely had many admirable qualities. It was a sore shame she couldn't think of any right now.
'May I?' Jack asked, holding his hands out for the document whilst Flói still racked his brain for a suitable retort.
'Of course.'
He took it from her and read it, smile ever growing. He had changed, this brother of hers. A year ago he clung to dwarvishness with both hands, rejecting all else. Yet here he stood now, dwarf and man both, feeling ever so delighted at having an elf for an adopted brother. He had grown into a leader folk would gladly follow into battle.
And a dwarf a youngster could look on as a father, she added in her mind when Harry appeared seemingly out of nowhere and made straight for Jack, although he also chimed out a cheerful 'Hello, Mrs Duria!' on the way there.
Jack simply grinned even wider – she hadn't known it was possible – and reached out one hand to take Harry's. 'Hello, my lad. Looks like you've gained another cousin today.'
Duria, quick to say her piece, quickly explained what Jack meant.
Harry considered this. 'But if you are going to be my dad,' he said, face pensive, 'that'd make him my uncle, right?'
Cathy bit her lip. It was endearing to see how Harry had taken to Jack, but adopting the lad might just take it all a bit too far. Harry's mother was still around somewhere, unlikely to be best pleased to find that the dwarves had claimed her son for their own without her knowledge or consent.
But how to break that to Harry?
As it happened, Jack knew exactly how to do that. 'I've told you before, lad, we can't do that without your mother's say-so.'
Harry nodded vigorously. 'I know.' He did not sound too beaten by the rejection. 'But you do want to, so that's all right.' He cast a cheeky grin in Duria's direction. ''Cause it's all about intent, you see.'
Huh, Cathy thought, considering the scene before her. It is at that.
Beth
By the time Beth emerged outside, the city was already preparing for battle. The citizens had all gone. Before now, she thought that the city was empty. She didn't think that any longer. The soldiers had taken over the streets. They were everywhere.
'What do I do?' she asked Boromir.
She might have said that she thought Minas Tirith was the best place for her to go, but only because she would be massively in the way with the Rohirrim and she really did not fancy the dead people all too much. The thing she really had come here to do – contain Denethor before he did some high quality damage – had been accomplished, but now she was not sure what to do anymore. Despite all her training, she was not a warrior.
'They mean to speak with us,' he replied. 'I would have you be there for that if you would agree to it.'
The prospect of facing a Nazgûl again did not fill her with unmitigated glee. 'If you want me there, I will come,' she said. 'But why?'
'You are Death's Bane, Beth,' Boromir reminded her with a devious grin. 'It will do them good to be reminded of their own mortality. They know now that they are not invincible. Perhaps the knowledge of this will make them cautious in their approach.'
It was not a bad idea, she had to admit. I am Death's Bane now. The title still tasted borrowed and uncomfortable. In her mind she was still plain old Beth Andrews, writer of books. This slaying Nazgûl business sounded more like a storybook than reality. Yet these are the facts and I have always based my work on facts.
So she nodded. 'I'll be there. After this chat, then what? Because they are never going to go away when we ask nicely and we are not going to open the gates to them. It's going to be battle regardless.'
The grin disappeared. 'We are playing for time, Beth,' he said, softly so that they could not be overheard. 'We cannot achieve victory by ourselves.'
'Could they have made it then already?' she asked. It had not been so long since the Fellowship left Osgiliath. Even if they had crossed into Mordor they would have a way to go there as well. It'd be slow going too.
Boromir shook his head. 'No, they will need more time. We can give it to them by fixing Sauron's eye upon us. And surely it must be. My brother has made sure of that. And soon Théodred will come and Aragorn too. We will make such a stand here that he will have no time nor resources in his own land.'
We are the distraction.
In that moment she saw the world the way he did. She understood his motivations. And still something was not quite right.
'But Sauron knows that the false Ring was taken from Faramir,' she said. 'What does he think has happened to it?'
'He may be led to believe that Faramir took it back.'
She did not necessarily like the sound of this. 'He may be led to believe this how?'
'Faramir has it again. You and he will remain at the highest level of the city with the men who already know.'
In just two sentences he had told her exactly how things stood. Not a single thing about this sounded good. Because if Faramir had it again, he would presumably display it for all the world to see, the implication being that he had both removed his father from power and forced his brother to defer to his judgement. It occurred to her that he had never actually said that he was going to be present for this talk. Or Gandalf for that matter.
Bloody hell.
And then there was her, playing the role of defender, the best of the best, the only one in Gondor who could boast that she had killed a Nazgûl. It is like a play. Nothing is as it seems, but our survival and the Fellowship's mission may depend on how well we perform here today.
She remembered that once she had told Gandalf that he nudged the little people out of their comfort zones into the big bad world, where they had to become more than they thought they could be. Beth still didn't know if she could be this.
I am no hero. I never was.
'They will come for us,' she said. 'They'll have no choice. They want it.' Come to think of it, they would have come for her regardless of where she was anyway. She had killed a Nazgûl. Sauron could not be seen to let that stand. I have a target on my back now too.
Boromir bowed his head. He did not like it either. 'Faramir's men are highly skilled,' he promised her. 'You will be well protected.'
But if they were to pull this off, she'd have to do her bit as well. That was what Nazgûl expected to see from one who had already killed one of their own. Hovering at the side-lines was never an option for her. It had not been for some time.
There was no need to say it. They both knew it.
'You believe that there is hope still,' Boromir said. He brushed across her cheek with the hand that was not lying on her shoulder. 'Hold onto it for both our sakes.'
Because you still cannot see it.
Beth was no longer sure that she could either.
Oh, for heaven's sake! Screw this! 'Don't die,' she told him. 'We are not done.' She did not plan to become a widow within a month of getting married. I want that future. She hadn't wanted anything to do with it when she had first seen it in Galadriel's Mirror, but that was then. This was now. She willed it into being with every cell in her body.
He made no promise. He kissed her instead with too much urgency and too much desperation. His answer was in that. Nevertheless Beth responded in kind. She held him for as long as she could, but in the end she had to let him go. This war is bigger than the two of us.
'Our friends will come,' Boromir promised, because of course he'd have faith in that and not in his own survival. 'Do not forget that we have a wizard on our side as well.' His face became grim. 'Record it all, Beth. Leave no detail unattended. One day we will hold the Enemy to account for what he did here. Your work will be our evidence.'
I am a war correspondent again. This was not the job that she'd ever wanted. She'd always though people who willingly went to a warzone to report on it had lost their marbles. No sane person could ever want to get in the middle of two warring sides. Yet here she was, in Minas Tirith in the year 3019 of the Third Age.
This did not go quite according to plan.
Boromir departed for the lowest level of the city to lead the troops there. Gandalf had already gone ahead to cook up a few magical surprises for any orc foolish enough to get within a hundred yards of the city walls. Beth meanwhile directed her steps to the vast open space before the palace, at the very highest level of the city.
Faramir was there already, standing next to the dead tree in the middle of said vast open space. Several of his men had assembled there as well, bows and arrows at the ready, swords at their hips. They seemed few in number, but even as she thought it she saw movement at the windows from the corner of her eye. She may not be able to see all her protectors, but that did not mean that they were not there.
'Has Boromir told you what we are to do?' Faramir asked. In the light of the torches he looked pale and haggard.
Beth nodded. 'Yes.'
Faramir only nodded once in response. The false Ring hung once again from the chain around his neck. Even up close it was hard to tell the difference between this forgery and the real deal. Of course it was only a plain gold band, but she reckoned that the Nazgûl would know it on sight. And they'd also know it if even one small detail was not right.
'They will come here?' she asked.
'They have wings,' Faramir replied, just in case her memory failed her. 'We do not.' He lay a hand on her shoulder. 'But we are well-protected here.'
Beth knew that. She had seen Aravir among their protectors. She fancied that she had seen Eradan as well before he concealed himself behind a curtain. They were not facing this alone and yet she felt like they were.
'Why here?' she asked. When she realised that she had perhaps not been clear enough in her question, she added: 'Why next to the tree? Won't that only draw attention to how dead the hope for the return of the King is?' Aragorn was supposed to go and plant a new tree when all was said and done, but that was not yet.
Faramir smiled at last. 'Look,' he said. He reached out his hand towards a branch just a little way above his head.
Beth looked.
'Oh.' She stood on tiptoes to see it better. 'Oh.'
'Your book does not speak of it?' Faramir asked.
'We can add that to the list of things it got wrong,' Beth replied. At this point she shouldn't be surprised when something was not as she thought it should be. Yet something like this happened and it always caught her on the back foot. The tree was supposed to be dead and it was not, not entirely. One solitary blossom bloomed on the branch above her head, surrounded by three quite small, but vibrant leaves.
That is our hope right there.
She kicked her brain back into gear. 'You mean to make them believe you are the King who's made that tree bloom again.' Bloody hell, she thought it was just Boromir who could come up with these wild and suicidal plans, but apparently it was a trait Faramir shared. He really didn't do things by halves. 'I can tell you're friends with Thráin.'
It was not a compliment.
He took it as one regardless. 'That is the highest praise I could have asked for.'
Beth left it at that. It was no good reasoning with someone with such a mindset. So she stood next to him and settled in to wait.
The waiting did not last long. They'd stood there for maybe five minutes when they heard the screeching. It was dark, though not as dark as it could have been. The clouds that hung above their heads flashed occasionally. It was not lightning, not exactly. It was more like fire spitting sparks every now and again, dangerous and angry.
Just like Sauron himself.
In one of those flashes she saw the Nazgûl. He rose up in the air on one of those winged monstrosities. The beast was covered from head to tail in armour. Even the eyes were shielded. It could not possibly see where it was going without direction. Evidently it did not like this. It appeared restless and even skittish, making unhappy noises every once in a while.
The rider too had armoured up for this meeting. He wore the apparently customary black rags, but he wore armour over the top, including a helmet with its visor down. This one had learned from the mistakes of its late comrade. Any fleeting thoughts Beth may have had about sticking her sword in its face went right out of the window.
'I have come to take what does not belong to you,' he said in a raspy sort of voice, laced with frost and despair. 'Give it to me.'
Faramir drew himself up to his full height. He never even flinched. 'Sauron's time is over,' he said. 'The Ring belongs to me now.'
Bloody hell, he's a good actor. From one moment to the next he had gone from the friendly man to one who was colder than the south pole. His voice rang with conviction, arrogance and frost. At the edges, he even sounded ever so slightly unhinged. Was it any wonder Sauron had fallen for this ruse hook, line and sinker? If Beth hadn't known any better, she would have bought it too.
'Foolish mortal!' A sound that might have been laughter followed this exclamation. 'You cannot wield it.'
'You should join my side,' Faramir replied, unfazed. 'It is not yet too late to do the sensible thing. You are bound to the Ring, not to him. And I am its Master now.'
The rider had apparently no words for this.
Faramir had no trouble filling up the space instead. 'It came to me. It chose me. Do the same and you will be well rewarded. Fail to take this offer and things might not go so well for you. Do you refuse?'
This was the rhetoric that Nazgûl were familiar with. This one however was not very receptive to it. 'You will die,' he said.
In answer Beth unsheathed Excalibur. She'd killed one of his kind already and surely this one knew that. 'Is that the case?' she asked.
The Nazgûl considered her for exactly two seconds before he determined that she was not the threat she appeared to be. 'You will be dragged before the Eye, where your ill-gotten gains will be taken from you,' he continued to Faramir. 'You will be naked before the Eye, where you will be made to watch and suffer and succumb to your despair, because you will never have it again. You will beg for death long before your wish will be granted.'
You're painting such a rosy picture. But for all her mental bravado, Beth instinctively shied away. This was evil, plain and simple. He was capable of carrying out this threat. Of this she had no doubt. This was what Nazgûl did, especially to one who had thwarted them, as Faramir had done.
Yet Faramir stood tall, resolve never wavering. 'You have no power over me,' he said. 'I command the thing to which you are bound. Your terror cannot hurt me.' That was blatantly untrue, but Faramir delivered it with a confidence that made even the Nazgûl pause. 'The Ring is mine. If you will not change your allegiance, then this is the message you may carry back to your master. The Ring has come to me and with me it will remain. Your master may keep his life only if he retreats back to within the borders of Mordor. Perhaps in time I will even extend the hand of friendship.' He topped it off with a smile so sharp you could cut yourself on it.
The Nazgûl screeched. Beth felt the despair, but it was not aimed at her. It brushed its cold hand past her. She did not get any more optimistic about this whole venture – and she hadn't started out as being very optimistic in the first place – but neither did she lose herself.
Her companion must have hitherto unsuspected reserves of courage, because although he was the intended recipient he never faltered. He stood tall, staring the Nazgûl in the face as he threw a massive hissy fit. If he felt the despair as keenly as he probably should, he gave no sign of it at all.
So eventually the wraith desisted.
'Should he refuse this kind offer,' Faramir continued as though he had not been interrupted at all, 'I shall make war on him. I shall strip the land bare and raze Barad-dûr to the ground. All he holds dear I shall take from him, so that he may watch, suffer and succumb to his despair, because he will never have it again. Then I shall kill him. Relay this message to Sauron.'
Bloody hell, he's good. It was a chilling performance, so good that she had to remind herself occasionally that it wasn't real, that it was all an act. The book of course had completely failed to mention that Faramir had seriously missed his calling as an actor. Then again, what did it get right these days?
The Nazgûl screamed again for good measure – and once again completely failed to elicit any sort of response from Faramir – and then urged his mount into the air. 'You will pay for this!' he warned.
Faramir said nothing.
The wraith flew off. Beth kept looking at it until it disappeared from view. It screeched in the distance, probably some sort of communication to its own. Only when it was at last out of sight did she turn to Faramir. 'How?' she asked, blurting out the very first thing that came to mind. 'How did you do that? Did it not affect you?'
'I felt the despair clawing at my soul,' Faramir replied. The mask of the power-mad and cruel man vanished, leaving the infinitely more likeable captain in his place. 'Yet I have faith in Thráin and his mission, so it did not take me.'
Thráin again. She probably should pay some more attention to the reason why Faramir was not affected by the Nazgûl's evil sorcery, but her mind decided to race off in another direction. Thráin. Bloody Thráin again. Everywhere she went she found that not only had he somehow got there first, but he'd also made tidal waves of change, apparently without ever actually trying. He'd spoken a few words to Galadriel and got the elves involved. He told a story about dragons to two young boys that altered their course in later life. And now apparently he had simply been so inspiring that Faramir had such a huge amount of faith in a good outcome that the Nazgûl's despair failed to take hold.
Bloody hell.
I wish I had half his faith.
Beth looked towards the east, to the dark mountains in the distance and the darker clouds that swirled above them.
Faramir will have to have enough faith for all of us.
Next time: a sequence of events is set in motion that is going to have catastrophic results in about ten chapters or so. (Could I have been clearer? Yes? Could I have been more vague? Possibly not.)
I would like a bit of help from you, if at all possible. Quite unexpectedly I found myself faced with the prospect of having two more Mûmakil and absolutely no inspiration for names. About three months of pondering have brought me no enlightenment, so now I turn to you. Who has a good suggestion? Do let me know!
Beginning next week (not this coming week, next week) I am going to try to upload two chapters a week. I have a substantial supply already written. I just need to proofread/edit/fix all my weird spelling and grammar mistakes that I make when I write too late in the evening when I should already be in bed. This can take up quite a bit of time, so I might not manage it every single week, but I am going to do my best to make it work.
In principle you'll always have the Sunday chapter, but as of next week you'll also have a chapter on Thursday, at least most weeks. We'll see how it goes.
Anyway, as always, thank you very much for reading. Reviews (feedback, praise, Mûmakil name suggestions etc.) would be very welcome.
Until next week!
