They were preparing to move on again the next morning, when suddenly both
King Elessar and Legolas spun to face the trees. Legolas had his bow out
and an arrow on the string in a flash, and King Elessar drew Anduil from
its sheath.
"Show yourself!" King Elessar commanded sharply. From the trees emerged a tall man, dressed in green, his face covered with a green mask. A bow was slung over his back and a sword hung by his side. Sal reached for the hilt of the sword the king had given him. He might not be much good in battle, but he would at least stand by the king's side to make up for what he had done.
"Who are you?" the king demanded.
"I am Ralthorn, Ranger of Ithilien." King Elessar sheathed his sword, waving a hand at Legolas, who put his bow away again.
"You need to practice, Ralthorn," King Elessar said, "A Ranger must walk unheard." Sal thought he'd done a very good job of walking unheard as it was. The king must have very sharp ears. "What is your purpose?"
"Captain Faramir's orders are that all Rangers are to be on the watch for intruders in Ithilien."
"I would hardly consider myself an intruder in my own land," King Elessar replied. Sal could see the realisation fill the Ranger's face, followed by fear. He wondered if he had looked like that in the stables.
"I'm sorry, Your Majesty," he said with a hurried bow.
"Take us to your captain," King Elessar ordered, ignoring the apology.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
***
Sal knew of Ithilien as a peaceful place, and beautiful. He agreed that it was beautiful as they rode at a slow walk behind the Ranger. But the place he led them didn't seen right for a place supposedly at peace. It was a place larger than a village, but not quite large enough to be called a town. The houses themselves were homes that looked cheerfully on small streets. But around the settlement was a strong stone wall with a heavy gate, guards upon the ramparts. As they passed through the gates, Sal looked carefully at the walls to discover that they were new. They must have been built within the last year, whereas the houses themselves had been dwelt in for longer than that.
A large building was in the centre of the settlement and a man was waiting at the door to welcome them. Sal recognised him, though he had only seen him at a distance, and not for several years. Faramir son of Denethor, the Steward of Gondor. He bowed low as the king dismounted, then the two grasped hands as old friends.
"Welcome to Ithilien, sire," Faramir said, "Do you require refreshment?"
"I'm sure my companions will welcome it, but you and I must speak first."
So when grooms had taken their mounts, and they had been taken to a private room, the king left with Faramir. A large amount of food had been laid out for them. Sal ate greedily, though he was pleased to see even he could not match the halflings in their appetites. It amazed him how much they ate, considering their size.
When Sal had finally had enough he sat down on a comfortable chair next to Merry and Pippin who were still nibbling. 'Filling up the gaps' they called it. Sal thought about the orc attack and the new fortifications that had been built. The Rangers had been alert in the woodlands. This was a land preparing for war, not the peaceful country it was reputed to be.
"Why have we come here?" Sal asked.
It was Merry who replied, as Pippin had his mouth full. "Strider didn't tell you?"
"No. I know it must be dangerous, not just because of the orcs, but King Elessar said so himself when he gave me the sword. And it must be important, for the king to come himself and to summon you together. But I don't know what it is."
"If Strider hasn't told you," Merry said, "it's probably better that we don't." Sal sighed. He didn't feel he could ask the king, especially after his comment about curiosity.
"Has he told you why he wanted me on this journey?" Sal asked.
"He only said that he needed someone who wasn't involved before," Pippin said, "and that you fitted his requirements." Involved with what, Sal wondered. The quest? Almost anyone in Gondor would be a candidate and surely there was someone more suited to the task than he. Whatever the task turned out to be.
When the king returned, his face was pale and drawn. Sal guessed he had been shocked by his discussion with Faramir. The members of the Fellowship noticed too, and watched him intently, expecting him to speak, but the king's mind was elsewhere, and his eyes didn't seem to see those gathered round him.
"I'd hoped I was mistaken," he muttered to himself. Then he became aware of the others, and turned to the halflings. "Merry, Pippin," he said, "there is grave danger ahead. You don't have to come, I'll understand if."
"We're coming," the halflings interrupted together.
The king smiled, and the drawn look fled, "I had expected as much." Then, to everyone's surprise, especially Sal's, he turn to him, "Salafir, you are no soldier, little more than a boy. I would not order you into the danger that we others must face."
Part of Sal wanted to seize this opportunity with both hands. This was probably his only chance to get out of this alive and safe. But there was another part that knew the only honourable way was to accept the challenge. The king must have seen his hesitation.
"It will be no mark of dishonour on you if you stay here. What lies ahead many men would fear to face, and will not take you if you are unwilling."
Sal heard his words, but the part that wanted to stay was still being overwhelmed by the other part. He took a deep breath, and pronounced his own doom. "My life is forfeit for lifting a weapon against my king, you have said so yourself. I would be a coward to turn away from the fate I chose for myself. If I am charged with death, I would rather die at the side of my king, for the sake of Gondor, than return home and live a life granted out of mercy I have not earned."
In the silence that followed, Sal looked into the face of the king, not wanted to see how the others looked at him. He was certain they were looking at him with disgust on learning of his crime, and so didn't see the respect in each of their faces.
"You have courage, Salafir," King Elessar said at last, "If you wish to serve me you may do so. May you wield fortune well against the evil we travel to face." He turned to leave, when Sal asked the question he had been dreading to ask since they had left Minas Tirrith.
"Where are we going?"
"To Mordor."
***
Author's note: Not very good as far as cliffhangers go, but it seemed a good place to stop.
"Show yourself!" King Elessar commanded sharply. From the trees emerged a tall man, dressed in green, his face covered with a green mask. A bow was slung over his back and a sword hung by his side. Sal reached for the hilt of the sword the king had given him. He might not be much good in battle, but he would at least stand by the king's side to make up for what he had done.
"Who are you?" the king demanded.
"I am Ralthorn, Ranger of Ithilien." King Elessar sheathed his sword, waving a hand at Legolas, who put his bow away again.
"You need to practice, Ralthorn," King Elessar said, "A Ranger must walk unheard." Sal thought he'd done a very good job of walking unheard as it was. The king must have very sharp ears. "What is your purpose?"
"Captain Faramir's orders are that all Rangers are to be on the watch for intruders in Ithilien."
"I would hardly consider myself an intruder in my own land," King Elessar replied. Sal could see the realisation fill the Ranger's face, followed by fear. He wondered if he had looked like that in the stables.
"I'm sorry, Your Majesty," he said with a hurried bow.
"Take us to your captain," King Elessar ordered, ignoring the apology.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
***
Sal knew of Ithilien as a peaceful place, and beautiful. He agreed that it was beautiful as they rode at a slow walk behind the Ranger. But the place he led them didn't seen right for a place supposedly at peace. It was a place larger than a village, but not quite large enough to be called a town. The houses themselves were homes that looked cheerfully on small streets. But around the settlement was a strong stone wall with a heavy gate, guards upon the ramparts. As they passed through the gates, Sal looked carefully at the walls to discover that they were new. They must have been built within the last year, whereas the houses themselves had been dwelt in for longer than that.
A large building was in the centre of the settlement and a man was waiting at the door to welcome them. Sal recognised him, though he had only seen him at a distance, and not for several years. Faramir son of Denethor, the Steward of Gondor. He bowed low as the king dismounted, then the two grasped hands as old friends.
"Welcome to Ithilien, sire," Faramir said, "Do you require refreshment?"
"I'm sure my companions will welcome it, but you and I must speak first."
So when grooms had taken their mounts, and they had been taken to a private room, the king left with Faramir. A large amount of food had been laid out for them. Sal ate greedily, though he was pleased to see even he could not match the halflings in their appetites. It amazed him how much they ate, considering their size.
When Sal had finally had enough he sat down on a comfortable chair next to Merry and Pippin who were still nibbling. 'Filling up the gaps' they called it. Sal thought about the orc attack and the new fortifications that had been built. The Rangers had been alert in the woodlands. This was a land preparing for war, not the peaceful country it was reputed to be.
"Why have we come here?" Sal asked.
It was Merry who replied, as Pippin had his mouth full. "Strider didn't tell you?"
"No. I know it must be dangerous, not just because of the orcs, but King Elessar said so himself when he gave me the sword. And it must be important, for the king to come himself and to summon you together. But I don't know what it is."
"If Strider hasn't told you," Merry said, "it's probably better that we don't." Sal sighed. He didn't feel he could ask the king, especially after his comment about curiosity.
"Has he told you why he wanted me on this journey?" Sal asked.
"He only said that he needed someone who wasn't involved before," Pippin said, "and that you fitted his requirements." Involved with what, Sal wondered. The quest? Almost anyone in Gondor would be a candidate and surely there was someone more suited to the task than he. Whatever the task turned out to be.
When the king returned, his face was pale and drawn. Sal guessed he had been shocked by his discussion with Faramir. The members of the Fellowship noticed too, and watched him intently, expecting him to speak, but the king's mind was elsewhere, and his eyes didn't seem to see those gathered round him.
"I'd hoped I was mistaken," he muttered to himself. Then he became aware of the others, and turned to the halflings. "Merry, Pippin," he said, "there is grave danger ahead. You don't have to come, I'll understand if."
"We're coming," the halflings interrupted together.
The king smiled, and the drawn look fled, "I had expected as much." Then, to everyone's surprise, especially Sal's, he turn to him, "Salafir, you are no soldier, little more than a boy. I would not order you into the danger that we others must face."
Part of Sal wanted to seize this opportunity with both hands. This was probably his only chance to get out of this alive and safe. But there was another part that knew the only honourable way was to accept the challenge. The king must have seen his hesitation.
"It will be no mark of dishonour on you if you stay here. What lies ahead many men would fear to face, and will not take you if you are unwilling."
Sal heard his words, but the part that wanted to stay was still being overwhelmed by the other part. He took a deep breath, and pronounced his own doom. "My life is forfeit for lifting a weapon against my king, you have said so yourself. I would be a coward to turn away from the fate I chose for myself. If I am charged with death, I would rather die at the side of my king, for the sake of Gondor, than return home and live a life granted out of mercy I have not earned."
In the silence that followed, Sal looked into the face of the king, not wanted to see how the others looked at him. He was certain they were looking at him with disgust on learning of his crime, and so didn't see the respect in each of their faces.
"You have courage, Salafir," King Elessar said at last, "If you wish to serve me you may do so. May you wield fortune well against the evil we travel to face." He turned to leave, when Sal asked the question he had been dreading to ask since they had left Minas Tirrith.
"Where are we going?"
"To Mordor."
***
Author's note: Not very good as far as cliffhangers go, but it seemed a good place to stop.