Disclaimer: You know I don't own LotR, so I won't bother saying so.
Author's note: I did promise a sequel, so here it is. Again it's a separate story from Fortune's Blade or When Fortune Fails, so you don't need to have read those to understand them. It would probably help though, but, since it'll be a while before Sal shows up, you've got plenty of time to catch up.
Just a note for those who haven't read the other stories. The silver-tree broach is given by the king to someone who does a great service for Gondor. In Fortune's Blade, Elessar gave Sal a sword named fortune.
This story is set about ten years after When Fortune Fails.
***
He was lying over something moving. His legs hung down one side of the thing and his head and arms the other. His wrists and legs were bound. Sounds gradually filtered through the awareness of the boy as he regained consciousness. Voices speaking softly, footsteps, and hoof-beats. He was on a horse. He couldn't see, and it took him a few moments to realise that it was because there was a blindfold over his eyes. As his sense began to awake, he became afraid. Whatever these people wanted with him, it wouldn't be good.
He tried to remember what had happened, how he had got this way. The last thing he could remember was someone grabbing him from behind in his room in Minas Tirith. He had always felt safe at home, and now that illusion was shattered.
A thought occurred to him. If they had been able to take him, had they been able to take his parents? Were Mother and Father in the same situation? Fear began to shake his body, and he gave a small sob before he could hold it back.
"I think our little prince is awake," a sneering voice said. Eldarion, son of Elessar, tried to stop trembling. He was terrified, but he didn't want his captors to see that.
***
"We're lost," Pippin complained for what seemed like the hundredth time that day.
"We're not lost," Merry replied, "We're just. . . misplaced."
"Lost," muttered Pippin. Merry glared at him.
"I said we should have stuck to the road," Pippin said, "but you insisted on taking that short cut."
"I didn't expect the fog to come up."
It was getting dark and the two hobbits trudged along. Merry was leading the pony that carried their belongings. Pippin was just moping. If Pippin hadn't been making such a fuss, Merry would probably have had admitted it was his fault by now. But it wasn't entirely his fault, since the fog had taken them both by surprise. It didn't really matter who's fault it was anyway, however it had come about, they were lost.
In the distance there was a slight glow. A fire perhaps, though from the light Merry guessed it was either a very small fire or hidden in a dip. He pointed it out to Pippin.
"Maybe they'll be able to tell us the right direction to go in," he said.
"Be careful," Pippin cautioned, "they may not be friends."
"Nonsense. We're hardly likely to come across a den of thieves with Strider's Rangers patrolling the land. They're probably just travellers like us, and might be glad of the company." Privately, Pippin agreed, but he was annoyed that Merry was refusing to admit the blame for getting them lost, and wasn't going to agree about this. Still, he followed Merry towards the fire.
The fire was indeed lit in a hollow, and people were sitting or walking round it. Pippin was about to descend into the hollow, but Merry grabbed his arm and pulled him to the ground. Pippin began to ask what he was doing, but Merry put his hand over Pippin's mouth, and then pointed at a figure lying close to the fire. It was difficult to see the figure clearly in the dark, but it soon became apparent that it was someone tied up. Apparently they had come across something worse than a den of thieves.
Slowly, the two hobbits began to back away from the edge of the hollow. Unfortunately, it was difficult to explain the need for silence to a pony.
"What was that?" a voice asked from the hollow.
By common consensus, Merry and Pippin began to run. There was no point in trying to keep quiet now. Merry tugged on the pony's lead rope, urging him into a trot. Behind them they could hear shouting and commotion. Pippin glanced back, and saw men with weapons drawn, gaining fast.
Suddenly there was a sharp pain in Pippin's right arm. He cried out and stumbled, an arrow imbedded in his flesh. Merry turned back towards him, running to his side.
"Go!" Pippin yelled, but it was too late. Merry was already at his side and the men had caught them up. Merry drew his sword and stood protectively over his friend. Pippin managed to draw his own sword with his left hand, and got to his feet. The pain was searing through his arm, and his legs felt shaky under his weight, but still he stood there.
They were surrounded by men, armed with bows and swords. The hobbits were caught in a net of steel and wood. It was clear there was no escape, but they were soldiers of Gondor and the Mark, and they weren't going down without a fight.
"Put down your weapons!" a bearded man with a sword ordered.
Merry and Pippin glanced at each other, silently asking if they should. Pippin's arm was agony, and he could feel blood running down from the wound.
"Put down your weapons or die!" the man ordered again. Merry looked at Pippin, and then slowly put down his sword. Pippin's practically fell from his hand as he swayed, suddenly dizzy, and collapsed. Merry dropped by his side, feeling to see if his friend was. He was terrified for Pippin. The wound hadn't looked that serious, so why had he collapsed like this? Fearing poison, he tried to see if he was still breathing.
Hands grabbed him and yanked him away from his friend's side.
"Let me go!" Merry shouted, trying to pull himself free, but even though he was large for a hobbit, he was no match for any of the men. Struggling madly, Merry was carried back to the hollow, the bearded man stooping to pick up Pippin.
***
Author's note: Dumped you right into the action there. I will be keeping up my tradition of evil cliffhangers.
Phoenix Flight, my friend has just asked if you write any stories since you seem to review a lot.
Author's note: I did promise a sequel, so here it is. Again it's a separate story from Fortune's Blade or When Fortune Fails, so you don't need to have read those to understand them. It would probably help though, but, since it'll be a while before Sal shows up, you've got plenty of time to catch up.
Just a note for those who haven't read the other stories. The silver-tree broach is given by the king to someone who does a great service for Gondor. In Fortune's Blade, Elessar gave Sal a sword named fortune.
This story is set about ten years after When Fortune Fails.
***
He was lying over something moving. His legs hung down one side of the thing and his head and arms the other. His wrists and legs were bound. Sounds gradually filtered through the awareness of the boy as he regained consciousness. Voices speaking softly, footsteps, and hoof-beats. He was on a horse. He couldn't see, and it took him a few moments to realise that it was because there was a blindfold over his eyes. As his sense began to awake, he became afraid. Whatever these people wanted with him, it wouldn't be good.
He tried to remember what had happened, how he had got this way. The last thing he could remember was someone grabbing him from behind in his room in Minas Tirith. He had always felt safe at home, and now that illusion was shattered.
A thought occurred to him. If they had been able to take him, had they been able to take his parents? Were Mother and Father in the same situation? Fear began to shake his body, and he gave a small sob before he could hold it back.
"I think our little prince is awake," a sneering voice said. Eldarion, son of Elessar, tried to stop trembling. He was terrified, but he didn't want his captors to see that.
***
"We're lost," Pippin complained for what seemed like the hundredth time that day.
"We're not lost," Merry replied, "We're just. . . misplaced."
"Lost," muttered Pippin. Merry glared at him.
"I said we should have stuck to the road," Pippin said, "but you insisted on taking that short cut."
"I didn't expect the fog to come up."
It was getting dark and the two hobbits trudged along. Merry was leading the pony that carried their belongings. Pippin was just moping. If Pippin hadn't been making such a fuss, Merry would probably have had admitted it was his fault by now. But it wasn't entirely his fault, since the fog had taken them both by surprise. It didn't really matter who's fault it was anyway, however it had come about, they were lost.
In the distance there was a slight glow. A fire perhaps, though from the light Merry guessed it was either a very small fire or hidden in a dip. He pointed it out to Pippin.
"Maybe they'll be able to tell us the right direction to go in," he said.
"Be careful," Pippin cautioned, "they may not be friends."
"Nonsense. We're hardly likely to come across a den of thieves with Strider's Rangers patrolling the land. They're probably just travellers like us, and might be glad of the company." Privately, Pippin agreed, but he was annoyed that Merry was refusing to admit the blame for getting them lost, and wasn't going to agree about this. Still, he followed Merry towards the fire.
The fire was indeed lit in a hollow, and people were sitting or walking round it. Pippin was about to descend into the hollow, but Merry grabbed his arm and pulled him to the ground. Pippin began to ask what he was doing, but Merry put his hand over Pippin's mouth, and then pointed at a figure lying close to the fire. It was difficult to see the figure clearly in the dark, but it soon became apparent that it was someone tied up. Apparently they had come across something worse than a den of thieves.
Slowly, the two hobbits began to back away from the edge of the hollow. Unfortunately, it was difficult to explain the need for silence to a pony.
"What was that?" a voice asked from the hollow.
By common consensus, Merry and Pippin began to run. There was no point in trying to keep quiet now. Merry tugged on the pony's lead rope, urging him into a trot. Behind them they could hear shouting and commotion. Pippin glanced back, and saw men with weapons drawn, gaining fast.
Suddenly there was a sharp pain in Pippin's right arm. He cried out and stumbled, an arrow imbedded in his flesh. Merry turned back towards him, running to his side.
"Go!" Pippin yelled, but it was too late. Merry was already at his side and the men had caught them up. Merry drew his sword and stood protectively over his friend. Pippin managed to draw his own sword with his left hand, and got to his feet. The pain was searing through his arm, and his legs felt shaky under his weight, but still he stood there.
They were surrounded by men, armed with bows and swords. The hobbits were caught in a net of steel and wood. It was clear there was no escape, but they were soldiers of Gondor and the Mark, and they weren't going down without a fight.
"Put down your weapons!" a bearded man with a sword ordered.
Merry and Pippin glanced at each other, silently asking if they should. Pippin's arm was agony, and he could feel blood running down from the wound.
"Put down your weapons or die!" the man ordered again. Merry looked at Pippin, and then slowly put down his sword. Pippin's practically fell from his hand as he swayed, suddenly dizzy, and collapsed. Merry dropped by his side, feeling to see if his friend was. He was terrified for Pippin. The wound hadn't looked that serious, so why had he collapsed like this? Fearing poison, he tried to see if he was still breathing.
Hands grabbed him and yanked him away from his friend's side.
"Let me go!" Merry shouted, trying to pull himself free, but even though he was large for a hobbit, he was no match for any of the men. Struggling madly, Merry was carried back to the hollow, the bearded man stooping to pick up Pippin.
***
Author's note: Dumped you right into the action there. I will be keeping up my tradition of evil cliffhangers.
Phoenix Flight, my friend has just asked if you write any stories since you seem to review a lot.