Disclaimer: I disclaim everything that I would need to have disclaimed to protect myself from losing a court case and having to pay lots of money if anyone decided that I had done a long word beginning with 'p' that I don't know how to spell…
Chapter 7: Night in the Forest
It was getting dark over the fields and gently undulating land as Isilmë drew near to the edge of a forest, after a continuous day of hard riding. Both her and Mîrlómë were weary, and needed rest. Isilmë had been determined not to stop until they reached the great Greenway, the road south which eventually came to Minas Tirith. But it grew late now, and they were coming to a forest.
Concerned, Isilmë brought Mîrlómë down to a walk. They should have come to the road by now – yet they drew nigh to a forest. Perhaps she had missed it along the way. But still, their path should have cut straight across the great road… perhaps it was through this forest, although she could recall no mention of it on the great maps hanging in the dining hall at Henneth.
The thought of her home made her pause and remember. How would her parents be feeling now? Would they accept her leaving? She felt guilty as she thought of them, of her departure, without even saying goodbye…
***Henneth Annûn***
'She's old enough to look after herself, Faramir,' said Éowyn. 'You knew as well as I did that she would do it one day.' Faramir paced the floor of their chamber, Éowyn sitting upon the bed, unbraiding her hair.
'I know. But…' he sighed. 'I just don't believe that what she has written is truly what she has left to do. Her skill with a sword leaves nothing more for Talor to teach her, yet she tells us that she wishes to improve!' He looked out of the window in exasperation. Éowyn smiled sadly, shaking her head. 'We'll not see her awhile, I fear. 'Tis true what you say. I am sure that she leaves not for Cair Andros; or at least, that be not her final destination.' Faramir looked directly at his wife.
'Then whither does she go?' She brought her clear eyes to his and held his gaze just as steadily.
'To Gondor, Faramir. To the White City she has gone.' Faramir looked down. 'Alas; I feared it so, that she would leave us one day for Minas Tirith. I remember, when the stories were told, she would question us intensely of it.' Éowyn smiled again, remembering her daughter as a little girl.
'And she always loved the tale of the Battle of the Pelennor.' She looked down, somewhat ashamedly, yet laughing.
'As did I,' said Faramir, chuckling and raising Éowyn's chin so that her laughing eyes looked into his. 'The tale of our wild shieldsmaiden of Rohan; I remember it well.' Éowyn stopped laughing, and looked at him seriously.
'Ai, that I was. And the same fire burns within her, Faramir; she wishes to be independent, and seeks glory, and the chance to prove something to herself.' And so we must let her go; she could not have stayed in Ithilien all her life. Fair though it is, and we are content, this land is one of peace, and calmness. She wishes for more than that.' Faramir nodded.
'Yet of a sudden has my valiant shieldsmaiden lost her pride, her love of battle?' Half-teasing, he looked into her eyes. Éowyn looked thoughtful.
'My pride, no. Yet my love of battle, 'tis true. Now is war's taste bitter; I hunger no longer for glorious deeds and honour. To me now are these glades more beautiful than any shining sword; the peace of the woods a lovelier song than any trumpet's cry.' She looked at Faramir with clear grey eyes. 'And I love thee, my lord. A short while with you is worth an eternity of brave and courageous deeds remembered in song.' Faramir looked at Éowyn with love in his eyes. Taking her hand, he said: 'And to be with you? 'Tis a joy forever,' and he took her in his arms, kissing her tenderly.
~*~Isilmë ~*~
Isilmë shivered. She had brought Mîrlómë into the forest, as thunderclouds were gathering overhead, and the trees, although not totally covering them, would provide more protection than the open fields. She had retraced her tracks, searching for the road in vain; now she had given up the idea of finding it, and planned simply to ride south, until she rode across it.
She shivered again, though wrapped in her grey cloak. She was sitting beneath a large oak, with Mîrlómë by her side, looking out at the grey clouds as the sky swiftly grew darker. Thinking for a moment, she got up and untied the horse, springing swiftly up onto her back.
'The storm brews worse than I thought,' she said to herself, then to the mare: 'we'll go deeper into the forest; better protection will there be there than so close to the edge of the trees.' They walked slowly on along the narrow trail they had found leading through the trees.
*****
An hour later, Isilmë was deep in the forest; the tall, dense trees blotted out much of the sky above, yet much rain still came through to the forest floor. Isilmë was soaked to the skin; Mîrlómë's mane plastered to her neck. The wind blew angrily in the trees; Isilmë was shivering.
Suddenly, she heard a shout amidst the gale; it sounded as though someone was behind her on the trail. Soon after came the sounds of a horse neighing and a drumming of many hoofbeats upon the ground. It sounded like quite a large company; maybe one of the outlaw groups of the forests in northern Gondor. Without a second's thought, Isilmë spurred Mîrlómë on into a gallop. As the mare thundered on through the trees, Isilme could hear the sound of a horn calling, not far behind. An answering call came swiftly through the trees to her left; a panic took Isilmë and she urged the horse on, through the driving rain and howling gale. Branches lashed against Isilmë's face; she could hear the shouts growing ever more clear behind her. Taking a chance, she turned the mare into the trees to the left of the path; bringing her down to a brisk trot, she rode towards a large oak with a wide bole, and stopped Mîrlómë behind it. Sliding to the ground, gasping for breath a little, she closed her eyes for a moment. She realized now that maybe her flight hadn't been such a good idea; she should at least have waited until she had a view of her pursuers.
~ Isilmë ~
They could have been a patrol of Gondor, I suppose… yet, if so, why would they have been out on such a night? The gale lessens a little now, yet it rains even harder. I know not why I fled so quickly; perhaps it was the chance that they could have been outlaws. Yet that was, perhaps, unwise… soldiers from Gondor could have directed me to the Greenway. Although would they have let me continue alone on such a night? There would be no hope of my concealing my true heritage in Minas Tirith had I been sent in with guards. 'Tis too late now, anyhow. I shall rest here tonight.
~~~~~~
A/n: I'm sorry for the undulating bit. I had to fit that word in somewhere… and damn that bloody film for making it impossible to put the words 'final' and 'destination' into a sentence together and not sound horror movie-ish…
And OK, so the Faramir/Éowyn bit didn't go too well… never mind. Hey, at least I tried… it's kinda difficult when there's a kid involved. It makes romance tough, if you're talking parents. Thanx for reviews everybody, sorry it took ages to get up. Whew. Graphics all done, aya! And survived Spain… yup, you're lucky this author's still alive! Will try to write more quickly… style is kinda fluctuating tons, but never mind. :)
Please review, ppl! Please? Pleeeaaaaaaase? Will try to write more quickly, I promise…