Author's note: Sal and Bergil are in their early twenties. And just so that
you don't get confused, this chapter takes place before the beginning of
chapter 1, and so will most of the others until the end.
Thanks to everyone who reviewed, please keep them coming in.
***
Sal awoke when he heard people moving around him. He leapt to his feet instinctively, his hand feeling for the hilt of fortune at his side. He calmed only slightly when he saw the uniform of the tower guard. The soldiers stood around him, most with swords drawn.
Sal looked around and saw that he wasn't in the place they had stopped for the night. He also couldn't see Elessar. They were on grasslands, with a few trees nearby. Sal could see no sign of the wood they had made their camp by. His horse was tied to an oak tree, but Elessar's horse was nowhere near.
"Where is the king?" Sal demanded of the soldiers, who were watching him with caution. But it was not the soldiers who answered.
"I would have asked you the same question," a voice came from behind him. Sal turned and saw Ralisay standing there, a strange look of enmity on his face. "You were the one who was supposed to protect him."
"We were attacked," Sal explained.
"That I do not doubt. And I wonder, why would the king be taken, and his bodyguard walk free, with not so much as a bruise to show he has fought. Rather suspicious, do you not think?" Sal struggled to comprehend this, his mind feeling rather foggy from the drug.
"They drugged me," he said.
"Perhaps." Sal didn't understand why Ralisay didn't believe him. He had proved he served the king, he had received the broach of the tree as a symbol of this. Why would Ralisay doubt him?
Ralisay answered his question by flinging a leather bag on the ground before Sal. It clinked as it landed, letting Sal guess what it contained.
"A large amount of money," Ralisay said, "Large enough to tempt the king's bodyguard into betraying him?"
"I would never betray Elessar," Sal said simply. He hoped his years of service would be proof enough of that, but his claim fell on deaf ears.
"When you didn't return to Minas Tirith when we expected, we sent out search parties. They found the king's horse, and his blood, but there was no sign of you. Now we find you, a good distance from the attack, with a bag of gold in your gear and without injury. What other explanation can you give for this?" Sal didn't reply, because he couldn't think of any reason why the attackers would have done this.
"Take his sword and bind him!" Ralisay ordered. Sal didn't struggle. He wouldn't be able to get away without hurting men of Gondor, and he wouldn't do that. If the only way he could escape being accused a traitor was to become one, he would face the charge and he would dispute it. Those he had served with would believe him.
For the moment, Sal's worries were more on what had become of the king.
***
Sal wondered why he seemed to find his way back to these cells so often when he never intended to do anything against Gondor. The soldiers who had brought him here seemed to believe as Ralisay did. So far, he had seen only one who had protested his capture.
When he had been brought in, Bergil, who now served as his father had done in the tower guard, had seen him. He had demanded to know what was going on. Sal smiled at the ceiling of the cell, remembering his friend saying how impossible it was for Sal to be a traitor. Sal had been led away, but still he had heard Bergil.
He sat up suddenly as the door opened. It was late, and there wasn't any reason for someone to come here. The only explanation was that they had some news of the king. Sal hoped desperately that he was safe, and already here in the city. He could still see his still form, the blood on the grass.
He looked at the door, only to see Bergil open it.
"You shouldn't be here," Sal said quickly, shocked to see his friend.
"Neither should you." Bergil crossed to him, leaving to door open, and took out a small key. He proceeded to unlock the chains that held Sal's wrists and ankles.
"I'm accused with treason, Bergil," Sal said, "if you free me you risk being charged yourself."
"I couldn't leave you here," Bergil replied, but didn't meet Sal's eyes.
Sal was touched that Bergil would do this for him. It lifted his heart to know that their friendship meant so much to Bergil he would risk his life for him. That feeling was like the sun breaking through the clouds. The fear Sal had felt, for himself as well as for Elessar, was suddenly gone. He stood quickly and the two friends left the cell. The guards were sleeping, slumped against the wall.
"I drugged them," Bergil said, following his gaze. It was surprising that the same trick which had been used so recently against Sal could be used now to his advantage. He wondered where Bergil had got the drug, but decided it was better he did not know.
Bergil had brought dark cloaks, which they wrapped around them as they hurried to the stables, just two more shadows on a moonless night. They reached the stables quickly, and were greeted quietly by one of the grooms, who was waiting with Sal's horse and another already saddled and ready.
"Thank you," Sal said.
"I know you, sir," the groom said, "and I trust in what I know, not what rumour says. If anyone can bring the king back, it's you."
"Thank you," Sal said again, smiling at the confidence this man had in him. He was beginning to feel as confident himself. As he mounted his horse, the groom held something out to him. Even though he couldn't see it clearly in the dark, Sal knew what it was, by some other instinct. Fortune!
He took back his sword, and strapped it to his side, and then they were off, riding through the city. They passed through each of the gates unchecked. Whether Bergil had drugged the guards, or they trusted him, Sal didn't know. They passed through the outer gates, and Sal looked up at the stars shining amid the blackness above them. There was something comforting about the stars, knowing that the problems of those beneath them were only fleeting and would soon pass away. Elessar had once said that Sal must have elf-blood in him.
Thinking of Elessar brought back the image of him on the grass, and the urgency of the situation. The rode out until they were out of sight of the city, where they paused to discuss what would come next.
"We should head north," Bergil said, "away from Gondor into the lands beyond the mountains."
"No," Sal said firmly, "we must go back to where the attack took place. I must find the king."
"But why, if you." Bergil broke off. It took Sal a moment to work out what he had been going to say.
"You think I betrayed him?" Sal was so shocked his mind went blank. It was bad enough that Ralisay would think that of him, that his best friend did too was unbearable. He thought Bergil had helped him because he believed in him, and now he learned he didn't. It was as though a cold hand had gripped his heart and threatened to tear it out.
"Do you see this?" he demanded angrily, touching the broach that was still pinned to his front. "Elessar gave me this because I save his life, and you think I would betray him now?" He looked away in disgust that his friend thought so little of him.
"I'm sorry," Bergil said, but it was too late. Sal had never imagined Bergil could doubt him. He had heard him protesting his innocence!
"You must see how the evidence is against you," Bergil continued. Sal understood now why things had happened as they had. The attackers had left him with the gold so that everyone would turn against him, even his friends. Sal keep his face away from Bergil, not wanting to let him see the tears filling his eyes that such a simple trick could work.
"I'm sorry, Sal," Bergil repeated, "I'm sorry." There was a silence. "Should we go south then?"
"Go back to Minas Tirith!" Sal snapped angrily, "I can manage fine on my own! Why do I want you with me if you think so little of me?"
He turned and rode away, angry and upset. He urged his horse on, wanting to rid himself of some of this emotion. Remembering what he had been taught, he focused on the task, putting aside his emotions for the moment. It was then he noticed the sound of hooves on the road behind him, gradually getting further behind. He slowed, and allowed Bergil to catch up with him. He might be angry with his friend, but he cared enough to be able to forgive him, though it would take a long time for him to forget this.
***
The sun was rising when the reached the edge of the wood where they had camped. The golden glow just served to accentuate the patch of dark red that still stained the grass. Sal blinked back tears, promising himself that he would find Elessar somehow.
He dismounted and walked to the patch of blood. The ground around here was stamped down by many feet. What traces there might have been to discover had probably been trampled by the soldiers of Gondor as they searched.
"There's nothing here to help us," Bergil said. Sal wanted to yell at him for giving in so soon, but managed to keep his temper.
"You forget," he said, "that I was trained by a Ranger." He walked slowly around, looking closely at the ground. He wished he had half Elessar's skill, as he struggled to distinguish the marks made by animals and those made by people. He found what he thought was the path they had taken, but they had been careful to hide their tracks.
"This way," he said, and went back to his horse.
"Are you sure this is wise?" Bergil asked. Sal was surprised that he was so worried, he was a trained soldier after all.
"It's what I must do," Sal replied, "you don't have to come." He began to ride, glancing behind him once to see that Bergil was following. He was glad that Bergil trusted him enough to accompany him now. Together, the two friends set off in pursuit of those who had taken the king.
Thanks to everyone who reviewed, please keep them coming in.
***
Sal awoke when he heard people moving around him. He leapt to his feet instinctively, his hand feeling for the hilt of fortune at his side. He calmed only slightly when he saw the uniform of the tower guard. The soldiers stood around him, most with swords drawn.
Sal looked around and saw that he wasn't in the place they had stopped for the night. He also couldn't see Elessar. They were on grasslands, with a few trees nearby. Sal could see no sign of the wood they had made their camp by. His horse was tied to an oak tree, but Elessar's horse was nowhere near.
"Where is the king?" Sal demanded of the soldiers, who were watching him with caution. But it was not the soldiers who answered.
"I would have asked you the same question," a voice came from behind him. Sal turned and saw Ralisay standing there, a strange look of enmity on his face. "You were the one who was supposed to protect him."
"We were attacked," Sal explained.
"That I do not doubt. And I wonder, why would the king be taken, and his bodyguard walk free, with not so much as a bruise to show he has fought. Rather suspicious, do you not think?" Sal struggled to comprehend this, his mind feeling rather foggy from the drug.
"They drugged me," he said.
"Perhaps." Sal didn't understand why Ralisay didn't believe him. He had proved he served the king, he had received the broach of the tree as a symbol of this. Why would Ralisay doubt him?
Ralisay answered his question by flinging a leather bag on the ground before Sal. It clinked as it landed, letting Sal guess what it contained.
"A large amount of money," Ralisay said, "Large enough to tempt the king's bodyguard into betraying him?"
"I would never betray Elessar," Sal said simply. He hoped his years of service would be proof enough of that, but his claim fell on deaf ears.
"When you didn't return to Minas Tirith when we expected, we sent out search parties. They found the king's horse, and his blood, but there was no sign of you. Now we find you, a good distance from the attack, with a bag of gold in your gear and without injury. What other explanation can you give for this?" Sal didn't reply, because he couldn't think of any reason why the attackers would have done this.
"Take his sword and bind him!" Ralisay ordered. Sal didn't struggle. He wouldn't be able to get away without hurting men of Gondor, and he wouldn't do that. If the only way he could escape being accused a traitor was to become one, he would face the charge and he would dispute it. Those he had served with would believe him.
For the moment, Sal's worries were more on what had become of the king.
***
Sal wondered why he seemed to find his way back to these cells so often when he never intended to do anything against Gondor. The soldiers who had brought him here seemed to believe as Ralisay did. So far, he had seen only one who had protested his capture.
When he had been brought in, Bergil, who now served as his father had done in the tower guard, had seen him. He had demanded to know what was going on. Sal smiled at the ceiling of the cell, remembering his friend saying how impossible it was for Sal to be a traitor. Sal had been led away, but still he had heard Bergil.
He sat up suddenly as the door opened. It was late, and there wasn't any reason for someone to come here. The only explanation was that they had some news of the king. Sal hoped desperately that he was safe, and already here in the city. He could still see his still form, the blood on the grass.
He looked at the door, only to see Bergil open it.
"You shouldn't be here," Sal said quickly, shocked to see his friend.
"Neither should you." Bergil crossed to him, leaving to door open, and took out a small key. He proceeded to unlock the chains that held Sal's wrists and ankles.
"I'm accused with treason, Bergil," Sal said, "if you free me you risk being charged yourself."
"I couldn't leave you here," Bergil replied, but didn't meet Sal's eyes.
Sal was touched that Bergil would do this for him. It lifted his heart to know that their friendship meant so much to Bergil he would risk his life for him. That feeling was like the sun breaking through the clouds. The fear Sal had felt, for himself as well as for Elessar, was suddenly gone. He stood quickly and the two friends left the cell. The guards were sleeping, slumped against the wall.
"I drugged them," Bergil said, following his gaze. It was surprising that the same trick which had been used so recently against Sal could be used now to his advantage. He wondered where Bergil had got the drug, but decided it was better he did not know.
Bergil had brought dark cloaks, which they wrapped around them as they hurried to the stables, just two more shadows on a moonless night. They reached the stables quickly, and were greeted quietly by one of the grooms, who was waiting with Sal's horse and another already saddled and ready.
"Thank you," Sal said.
"I know you, sir," the groom said, "and I trust in what I know, not what rumour says. If anyone can bring the king back, it's you."
"Thank you," Sal said again, smiling at the confidence this man had in him. He was beginning to feel as confident himself. As he mounted his horse, the groom held something out to him. Even though he couldn't see it clearly in the dark, Sal knew what it was, by some other instinct. Fortune!
He took back his sword, and strapped it to his side, and then they were off, riding through the city. They passed through each of the gates unchecked. Whether Bergil had drugged the guards, or they trusted him, Sal didn't know. They passed through the outer gates, and Sal looked up at the stars shining amid the blackness above them. There was something comforting about the stars, knowing that the problems of those beneath them were only fleeting and would soon pass away. Elessar had once said that Sal must have elf-blood in him.
Thinking of Elessar brought back the image of him on the grass, and the urgency of the situation. The rode out until they were out of sight of the city, where they paused to discuss what would come next.
"We should head north," Bergil said, "away from Gondor into the lands beyond the mountains."
"No," Sal said firmly, "we must go back to where the attack took place. I must find the king."
"But why, if you." Bergil broke off. It took Sal a moment to work out what he had been going to say.
"You think I betrayed him?" Sal was so shocked his mind went blank. It was bad enough that Ralisay would think that of him, that his best friend did too was unbearable. He thought Bergil had helped him because he believed in him, and now he learned he didn't. It was as though a cold hand had gripped his heart and threatened to tear it out.
"Do you see this?" he demanded angrily, touching the broach that was still pinned to his front. "Elessar gave me this because I save his life, and you think I would betray him now?" He looked away in disgust that his friend thought so little of him.
"I'm sorry," Bergil said, but it was too late. Sal had never imagined Bergil could doubt him. He had heard him protesting his innocence!
"You must see how the evidence is against you," Bergil continued. Sal understood now why things had happened as they had. The attackers had left him with the gold so that everyone would turn against him, even his friends. Sal keep his face away from Bergil, not wanting to let him see the tears filling his eyes that such a simple trick could work.
"I'm sorry, Sal," Bergil repeated, "I'm sorry." There was a silence. "Should we go south then?"
"Go back to Minas Tirith!" Sal snapped angrily, "I can manage fine on my own! Why do I want you with me if you think so little of me?"
He turned and rode away, angry and upset. He urged his horse on, wanting to rid himself of some of this emotion. Remembering what he had been taught, he focused on the task, putting aside his emotions for the moment. It was then he noticed the sound of hooves on the road behind him, gradually getting further behind. He slowed, and allowed Bergil to catch up with him. He might be angry with his friend, but he cared enough to be able to forgive him, though it would take a long time for him to forget this.
***
The sun was rising when the reached the edge of the wood where they had camped. The golden glow just served to accentuate the patch of dark red that still stained the grass. Sal blinked back tears, promising himself that he would find Elessar somehow.
He dismounted and walked to the patch of blood. The ground around here was stamped down by many feet. What traces there might have been to discover had probably been trampled by the soldiers of Gondor as they searched.
"There's nothing here to help us," Bergil said. Sal wanted to yell at him for giving in so soon, but managed to keep his temper.
"You forget," he said, "that I was trained by a Ranger." He walked slowly around, looking closely at the ground. He wished he had half Elessar's skill, as he struggled to distinguish the marks made by animals and those made by people. He found what he thought was the path they had taken, but they had been careful to hide their tracks.
"This way," he said, and went back to his horse.
"Are you sure this is wise?" Bergil asked. Sal was surprised that he was so worried, he was a trained soldier after all.
"It's what I must do," Sal replied, "you don't have to come." He began to ride, glancing behind him once to see that Bergil was following. He was glad that Bergil trusted him enough to accompany him now. Together, the two friends set off in pursuit of those who had taken the king.