Chapter 42:
The Consequences of Failure
Author's Note: Welcome to The Two Towers. Honestly, while I'm attempting to keep to the original plot of LOTR as much as possible, the presence of certain characters have changed the direction of the story which seems to have taken on a mind of its own. The month will soon end and after that I will try to keep up with weekly updates for this story. I really want to finish this thing, but we have a very long way to go before that happens.
Anyway, enjoy! Expect another update before the week is out, maybe even two!
Aragorn knelt running his hand lightly over the leafy earth as he made note of the specific signs of Frodo's passage. He noticed the much lighter tread of a female elf's boot and knew Aracasse had been there as well. Lips curled into a frown and he rested his chin on his fist. What brought them to this moment? What had Boromir done? The man had entered the camp making little sense without their two other missing companions. The Fellowship scattered to the four winds a moment later and Aragorn was left attempting to keep a level head during the whole ordeal.
It didn't help that Ara was missing and he'd heard the tell-tale signs of orcs in the past half-hour of his search. The creatures were nearer than he liked and he knew the knight elf, Erebus, was with them and whichever fell ally from Earth. Discovering sings of his wife and Frodo in the woods helped alleviate his concerns, but the possibility of something having gone terribly wrong ate his consciousness.
He hesitated only a moment before he sprang the rest of the way up the hill to the summit and looked about the sprawling land. There were high hills in the distance that loomed over the land around him. At a great distance was a large bird - what Aragorn supposed to be an eagle - circling the earth as it slowly descended from the grey-blue sky. Sunlight peeked through the clouds and bathed the land in yellow and orange.
The eyes of an elf would be a blessing in this hour, he thought.
There was no sign of Frodo or Aracasse.
Shouts and cries echoed from the distant woodland below. Aragorn started, turning his head in their direction - alarmed - and peered into the tops of trees to hopefully make out the signs of struggle. Were they merely rowdy orcs, or had they found one of their company? Then the deep throated bellow of the horn of Gondor echoed through the hills. Aragorn started, having not expected it, and rushed from his perch. It was now when he noticed Sam hadn't followed him from the river bank as he'd first thought.
"Alas! An ill fate is on me this day, and all that I do goes amiss," he muttered.
Never had he ran so hard or so fast. Boromir, the companion whose plight weighed close to his heart - nearly as close as Ara's - was in danger. The man of Gondor who merely sought the answer to a riddle and longed for hope to return with him. He was in danger. The enemy had found him. Seven calls of the horn blared through the trees and grew louder with each step. The sounds of the orcs drew fainter and Aragorn almost changed course to pursue. He continued on his original path and drew his sword as he created the final hill.
He came upon a little glade barely a mile from Parth Galen. What would have been a picturesque forest even in the waning winter months, revealed a massacre of dead or dying orcs. Aragorn slowed his descent and tread carefully over the corpses searching for signs of his companion. He found him a moment later spawned on the forest floor. Aragorn hurried to his friend's side and placed his sword carefully on the grass within easy reach. A cursory glance showed a shallow knife wound in Boromir's back and a bloody gash on his temple. Hastily, Aragorn removed the man's cloak and shrugged off his leather vest and chainmail leaving the two layers of shirts underneath. He lifted them to gain better access to the still bleeding wound in Boromir's back and reached into his back to pull out a jar of paste best used to numb the pain and reduce inflammation alone with a long strip of white cloth to bind the dressing and gauze to the wound. As he worked, the gondorian grunted and stirred. Aragorn placed a firm hand on his shoulder.
"Don't move, friend, the wound in your back is shallow, but it requires immediate tending to all the same," he said gravely.
"Thank you. This is more kindness than I deserve," Boromir said.
"What happened?" Aragorn asked, making an effort to appear calm in the face of the storm of his emotions.
"I tried to take the ring from Frodo," Boromir confessed. "Our little queen discovered me as the madness ended. I think, I truly can't be sure, but I think she placed a curse on me. I know not what prompted her to say the words she had, but I've felt strange ever since. She left to look for Frodo - or so I assume - and -," he cut himself off as Aragorn finished cleaning blood from the would and began applying the remade poultice. "You remember me arriving at camp and instructing me to look after Merry and Pippin. I followed them to this glade where they and the queen were surrounded by orcs. I intervened to help, but all four of us were laid low by the appearance of a sorceress and her acolytes. I regained my senses enough to blow my horn but…"
Boromir released a shaking breath and shuddered visibly. The intensity of the movement almost interrupted Aragorn as he worked to make the cloth bandage pliable and fixed a thick gauze covered in the ointment and extra herbs on the slowly cauterizing wound.
"The old elf sorceress stabbed me with an ornate black blade, but I was thrown off my feet by a powerful wind just as she moved in for the kill. They'd… Merry and Pippin were already taken as was Ara shortly after. Forgive me, Aragorn, I failed all of us!"
It was difficult for Aragorn to breathe past the lump that formed in his throat upon hearing the end of Boromir's tale, but he kept a steady hand and slipped the cloth under the man's torso and began to wrap it tightly. He couldn't completely reassure the man that the situation wasn't his fault. The fact remained that, had he stayed by the river with the rest of them, the company still would have remained together and Ara, Merry and Pippin wouldn't have been vulnerable.
But that wasn't the right of it.
Had Aragorn been more vigilant, he would have noticed Boromir and then later Ara leave. At least, he thought that was how it went. Had she suspected Boromir's intentions and departed after Frodo first to keep an eye on him? Had they left close together? At the same time? The fact that he hadn't thought to pay attention to either only added to the bitterness of the moment.
He tied the dressing tight and rested on the balls of his feet, "Sit. Let me look at your head."
Boromir complied, though he muttered something that should vaguely self-deprecating through Aragorn couldn't be completely certain. The reality he found himself in weighed too heavily on his mind for him to pay much heed. From the sound of it, Ara had faced a curse of some sort, but how could she have succumbed to it? Lady Galadriel had gifted her something that would have made such a thing difficult for the enemy to use. As Boromir moved, Aragorn's eyes settled on a glittering object several meters away. The gondorian followed his gaze and sighed.
"I had wondered. The Knight elf said he'd placed some sort of spell on her at Sarn Gebir. I couldn't tell the whole of it, but that is the essence of what I believe was said," Boromir said, sadly.
Aragorn could only stare at the golden tiara glittering on the ground, sapphire gem sparkling innocently in the sunlight. He closed his eyes and took a moment to gather his wits. Now wasn't the time to break, not when she and the hobbits needed him.
"Aragorn, Boromir!"
They looked in the direction of Legolas' voice as the elf and Gimli rushed into the glade, weapons drawn and eyes darting about in search of the enemy. The dwarf glared at the fallen orcs and shoved his axe into the head of one that still twitched.
"You come too late," Boromir said bitterly. "They have taken our companions!"
Legolas looked increasingly alarmed as Aragorn relayed the tale after reprimanding Boromir for moving too much. His hands searched the man's scalp for any fractures in his skull and. From what Aragorn could tell from the man's eyes, he didn't have much of a concussion. Gimli joined them shortly after satisfying himself with the assured deaths of their fallen enemy. When Aragorn finished tending to Boromir and speaking, the elf began to pace. It was a peculiar sight. Rarely had Legolas lost his composure, but the kidnapping of his niece and friends rattled him.
"Come, we must return to camp and better tend better to your wounds," Aragorn said. "I wish to see if Frodo and Sam might be there. I don't think the enemy has them, but I could be wrong. Much of what I've done today has gone amiss and it is a mercy that not one of our company has been killed, though I fear that two shall meet that fate."
"Yes, we must follow the orcs," Legolas agreed. "Though I am loth to abandon Frodo in all of this if he hasn't met the fate of the others."
"Indeed, such is a fell fate of our company," Boromir agreed. "Go after Frodo, and Sam if he is with him, and let me chase the orcs to save our friends."
"No," Aragorn said gravely. "If you follow the orcs, so will I. Merry and Pippin were first and foremost my responsibility and I won't let the enemy take my wife without making chase!"
"Before we do so, let me replenish my quiver for it is empty," Legolas said.
Aragorn allowed Gimli to help Boromir back into his outer garments as he stood and walked over to where Ara's tiara lay. He gingerly lifted it into his hands and inspected it, rubbing the design with his thumb. Long minutes passed before he placed the trinket in his satchel and moved to inspect the dead orcs. Moments passed as he went from body to body and Aragorn drew forth the knives and belts of their hobbit friends. He discovered two of Ara's long knives buried in the heads of two orcs.
The bodies of the orcs were strange. They weren't the typical orcs from Mordor or the Misty Mountains. They were tall, muscular and thick limbed. Instead of the curved scimitars, the strange orcs carried broad-swords and bows of yew and their shields were marked with a small white hand in the center of a black field. A white "s" rune was set on the front of their helms. His eyes narrowed at the run and the hand.
"I haven't seen these tokens before," Aragorn mused. "What do they mean?"
"S is for Sauron, that is easy to read," Gimli said.
"No," Boromir said, "the signs of Mordor orcs are different. I've never seen these before."
"Neither does he use his right name, nor permit it to be spelt or spoken," said Aragorn. "And he does not use white. The Orcs in the service of Barad-dûr use the sign of the Red Eye."
He stood for a moment in thought. The others watched him expectantly. He ran his hand over his face and stared at the bodies littering the small glade.
"S is for Saruman, I guess," he said at length. "There is evil afoot in Isengard, and the West is no longer safe. It is as Gandalf feared: by some means the traitor Saruman has had news of our journey. It is likely too that he knows of Gandalf's fall. Pursuers from Moria may have escaped the vigilance of Lórien, or they may have avoided that land and come to Isengard by other paths. Orcs travel fast. But Saruman has many ways of learning news. Do you remember the birds?"
They nodded. Legolas inspected his quiver - which was full - and finally slung it back over his shoulder.
"Let us return to camp and see if Frodo and Sam returned," he said. "From there we must decide our course!"
Aragorn frowned but nodded all the same. He helped Boromir to his feet and steadied the man when he swayed. The man grunted his thanks and allowed Aragorn and Gimli to help him to the camp while Legolas pulled out at arrow and kept his bow strung - ready to retaliate should the enemy reappear. Aragorn didn't think such a thing would happen. The enemy had their prize. Why return for any other?
At the camp, Aragorn moved to the pallet he and Ara shared only that previous evening. Without paying much heed to the area, he knelt before his pack and began to sift through the contents. Once his hand closed about the pack of medicine gathered from the healing halls of Imladris and Lorien. As he drew out the package, his elbow knocked against her pack - which lay next to his - and Aragorn looked at it as it fell over.
Her pack.
Aracasse was captured by the enemy and there was no true guarantee that she would be completely protected form the curse intended for her. The gravity of the situation bore down upon him - overwhelmed him - and Aragorn bowed over and covered his eyes with his free hand. Violent sobs wracked his body.
The enormity of his failure overcame all composure and he wept.
When the violent fit of grief subsided, Aragorn felt a kind hand rest on his shoulder. He glanced behind to find Legolas looking down at him with his own grief reflected in his eyes.
"They are not yet dead and I suspect Frodo and Sam have gone on their own," the elf said softly. "I know not what you intend with Frodo, but I must give chase for my niece."
Aragorn wiped the remaining tears from his cheeks and said, "Let me see to Boromir's wounds and then I will see what I can make of Frodo's fate."
He stood and carried the medicine to their comrade whose garments were removed once more and began to reapply and fortify the dressing and bandages. Occasionally, Boromir winced, but kept his silence. The man's eyes were downcast and his jaw remained tense. After Aragorn finished seeing to Boromir, he turned and began to inspect the shore.
"No Orcs have been on this ground," he said. "Otherwise nothing can be made out for certain. All our footprints are here, crossing and re-crossing. I cannot tell whether any of the hobbits have come back since the search for Frodo began."
He returned to the bank, close to where the rill from the spring trickled out into the River. Vaguely, he noted various runic markings he'd never seen before placed strategically around the camp. He frowned and considered them for several long moments. If memory served him, Ara had explained a little bit of the elven runic language of Earth. There were two: one for the general written word and the other as a written articulation of elven magic. The uses were simplistic in most instances: a stronger weave of protection for a single person or group of people, to unlock a particularly stubborn door, or some sort of violent offensive attack or diversion. She hadn't gone into further detail on the subject and Aragorn had the distinct impression that runes of power were something she used but poorly understood.
The camp was well protected, he thought. If only we all had stayed. If only she had told me she protected our camp! I never would have - no, no best not think of it. The consequences have been met.
"There are some clear prints here," he said. "A hobbit waded out into the water and back; but I cannot say how long ago."
He moved from the river and inspected the companies remaining packs. As he suspected, Frodo and Sam's were gone.
"I found Sam and instructed him to follow me in search of Frodo, but our young hobbit friend knew his master's mind and returned to the camp," Aragorn guessed. "Frodo has left us and gone to Mordor on his own, but couldn't shake Sam."
"This is a strange deed. Did the hunting orcs cause him to flee, I wonder?" Gimli asked.
"No," Boromir muttered. "No, it was not the orcs."
Aragorn looked at his friend and beheld the man's wretchedness. The gondorian drew himself up and met their gazes with his own determined one. There was no defiance. There was no defensiveness. Only determination showed.
"He was running from me," the man confessed. "I tried to take the ring from him. It wasn't my first intention, though the fever of lust for it had been growing in my mind for many days. I went to him to try and convince him to come with me to Gondor, but then a madness overtook me and I lunged for him. Frodo escaped me - he put on the ring and fled - and I called for him and cursed him until the madness passed. When I'd realized what I'd done, I was ashamed. Then your wife, my queen, came to me and uttered words of power and a great purpose was placed on my heart. I feel strange every moment, though I know not why nor do I know what magic was in her words. She left soon after. I assume she wanted to find Frodo. I know not how she happened upon Merry and Pippin, but she was protecting them when I arrived. I… I failed them. I failed Frodo and I failed you."
Aragorn didn't know what to say and neither did their two companions. Legolas and Gimli gaped at Boromir's admission and looked as if they couldn't decide whether to be sympathetic or angry. After a moment, Aragorn stood from where he kneeled on the ground and shook his head.
"No, Boromir, it is I who have failed this company. I am your leader and guide. I should have been vigilant of your failings and sympathetic to your fears. I should have known - I did know - that my wife doesn't trust any of us to take care of our own lives. I could have been more mindful of this and altered my conduct toward her. I didn't. I failed her, I failed Merry and Pippin, I failed you, and I failed Frodo," he said.
"Aragorn," Legolas said, "don't blame yourself in this. We are all culpable for each others well-being. We have all failed them."
"And now we have a choice," Gimli said. "Take our remaining boats and follow Frodo, or pursue the enemy and regain our friends."
Aragorn looked at them and looked to the distant shore. Daylight had passed and late afternoon had come upon them. He would make the right choice this time and change the fate of this unhappy day.
"I will follow the Orcs," he said at last. "I would have guided Frodo to Mordor and gone with him to the end; but if I seek him now in the wilderness, I must abandon the captives to torment and death. My heart speaks clearly at last: the fate of the Bearer is in my hands no longer. The Company has played its part. Yet we that remain cannot forsake our companions while we have strength left. Come! We will go now. Leave all that can be spared behind! We will press on by day and dark!"
He took only two things: his pack and the pack of his wife. Gimli, Legolas and Boromir followed soon after - each with their own - and looked to him with grave expressions. Aragorn nodded once and then sprang into a quick trot up the grassy hill and in the direction he remembered the enemy to have gone. The hard footsteps of his companions thundered after him.
Aracasse woke to the reeking smell of orc. She also woke to incessant pounding, yelling and what she could only divine as cursing in guttural orc-tongue. Her body was sore and her head pounded from the after effects of the temporary sleeping curse placed on her. The orc carrying her suddenly leapt into the air and she released a pained groan when his feet just as suddenly thudded into the hard earth.
Then different shouts met her ears and her captor abruptly halted. The halt jostled her in a way that made the throbbing in her head worse. Another groan left her as she was thrown down to the ground. Heavy footsteps thudded a little bit away and Ara attempted to force her eyes open and peer at her surrounding captors. A large orc's back loomed over her and snarled nastily as an even larger one approached and looked down at her prone body.
"The she-elf is awake!" The orc called.
Lighter footsteps padded the hard ground and a woman with blood red eyes and skin as pale as curdled milk peered down at her. She drew her lips back into a feral smile - revealing elongated fangs that barely brushed the top of her bottom lip. The vampiress knelt and ran slim fingers briefly over Ara's body.
"You are in luck, Uruk," the once-living woman said, "the queen hasn't sustained any injuries with your manhandling. Erebus! My lady Persephone! The queen has awakened!"
"A moment!" Called Erebus before he snapped, "Stop whipping the hobbit! Escapee or no, Saruman and his Master wishes them to remain unharmed! Ugluk! Take charge of them!"
It took a moment for Ara to realize that the orcs (Uruks?) spoke the common tongue instead of their fell orc language. She frowned at this, but didn't have time to ponder on the subject further when Erebus appeared at her side, lips curled into a broad satisfied smirk.
"Where are Merry and Pippin?" She demanded.
"The hobbits are alive," Erebus said, "and likely face a kinder fate than yours."
He looked up as the grotesque old woman that was Persephone approached. Next to her was a tall, slender elf with blond hair and eyes of snake green that glowed in the growing darkness.
Siren, she thought.
Then she noticed the burning anger and hatred on the elf siren's expression. Ara fought to keep herself from revealing that she'd bothered to notice. Could she use this, or was the anger and hatred directed at her?
Again, there was little time to ponder these things as Persephone knelt before her and racked her eyes over Ara's bound form. Those eyes narrowed into dangerous slits and her wrinkled hand reached out to brush the Ring of Barahir. Immediately, she jerked her hand away as if the metal of the ring burned.
"What is this? Whose ring is this and why do you wear it?" Persephone asked.
Ara kept her silence and chose to defiantly glare at her aunt. The elf crone sneered before her hand swung and struck her across her cheek. The ring on Persephone's middle finger left a bloody scratch in its wake.
"You will tell me the truth of it, child of mine sister!" She screeched.
Aracasse laughed. She laughed for the hopelessness of her situation. She laughed in the face of her captors as they clearly hadn't discovered her married state. She laughed because she knew, once they did, her life would likely be over. There was no humor in the thought, but she laughed anyway. It was all she could do.
Persephone sneered and grabbed her throat. Ara choked. The elf-crone's hand felt chapped and papery. Whatever fell process she went through to gain her power seemed to have drained her of all markers of personal beauty. Remembering her aunt's story, Ara felt a glimmer of pity for the woman. The daughter of Zeus and Demeter - sibling lovers - Persephone had once been pure and innocent until Hades kidnapped her shortly after he'd given himself over to sorcery. The reason for this move was never given, though many of the elves who'd lived during that time speculated on the matter for long after Queen Athena locked them in the seventh gate of hell. All that was certain was Persephone had been pure and innocent of all things evil and then Hades stole her and corrupted her and married her once that corruption was complete. As far as Ara knew, Persephone never knew love, kindness or tenderness after marrying Hades. For this wrinkled creature to be the fate of her aunt…
Is this worse than the fate they wish to inflict upon me? She wondered.
Something of her pity must have shown because Persephone snarled and thrust her upon the ground. She placed her hand on Ara's forehead and forced her way into her mind. Ara gasped, squirmed, and screamed as she felt the violence of Persephone's mental probe attempt to ravage the defenses she'd erected to protect herself from the very thing the elf-crone was doing. Because she hadn't expected the attack, Ara was only moderately successful. Unfortunately, the bit her aunt did extract was enough to piece together the whole story.
"Damn! Curse the elders of the White Council for their lucky foresight!" Persephone hissed, wrenching her hand away from Ara's head.
Erebus looked at Ara long and hard, eyes falling on the ring which hung from her neck. Recognition seemed to dawn and he looked at Persephone, eyebrow raised.
"That Ranger from the North, the one who called himself, Strider. She married him," he guessed.
"Yes," Persephone muttered. "Though Strider isn't his name, I can't pull that from her mind. She guards it too well."
She glanced at Ara, a thoughtful frown on her wrinkled brow. Erebus also returned her gaze to Ara, though she noticed an almost satisfied smirk grace his lips.
There must be some infighting among their ranks, she thought.
"It doesn't matter," Persephone said, finally, "Prince Hades will know how to proceed. Break from the Uruks, have them take the hobbits to Isengard. We will take our little queen to a different place under the stars and there I will have the Prince meet us. I suspect he will have the knowledge needed to overcome the bond of one married to their destined one."
Ara felt a cold dread wash over and through her. In that hour she knew Aragorn had been right about her. He had been right to order that she stay by his side or the side of one of the Fellowship. She never should have gone after Frodo on her own. She never should have gone looking for trouble. She closed her eyes, headache forgotten, and struggled to keep the fear at bay. If Hades knew of a way to weaken the bond enough to inflict the curse upon her, then there was no hope. Everything she'd beheld in Galadriel's mirror would come to pass.
Instead of one of the Uruks, Erebus lifted her over his shoulder. As the monsters left, carrying Merry and Pippin with them, Aracasse felt herself carried away into the dark night. Hours passed and she forced herself to remain calm. Escape was still possible if the curse used to incapacitate her wore off - something she suspected would never be allowed - but that chance was slim. The enemy had prepared for much in this elaborate scheme. There was nothing more to do than wait for the inevitable.
When the arrived at whichever place Persephone had in mind, Aracasse was lowered to the ground. Erebus, for all his vileness, was much gentler in his treatment of her. She wondered why. Was it because she was slated to become the play toy of Aries?
They left her alone, confident she couldn't try anything, and Ara supposed they were right to be so. A nick in the side of her neck told her that Erebus reapplied the curse and she felt her body grow numb and unmoving once more. This time she didn't lose consciousness. Instead, she stared into the distant night sky and knew there was no hope. When she was taken, the Uruks had carried her off with the hobbits. Now that she was alone, the game changed. Aragorn wouldn't necessarily notice that she'd been separated from the group - at least not until it was too late. By that time…
Hades. Hades was coming.
Desparing tears pricked her eyes and she closed them to keep herself from showing such weakness. If there was a way to make sure the curse would take, Hades would ensure its success. Everything that they'd done to stop it was for naught and this time no one would come for her. She was alone.
It's better this way, she thought.