Not much to say, again, but please please please Read&Review!
Happy reading!
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She met Gollum later that night, for they were travelling under the dim light of the stars and moon. It was a hissing, moaning affair, and the creature himself was even more detestable close up than he was from afar. Gollum hated her right from the start, she knew, and hated her with a vengeance. He calmed down outwardly after a while, but he glanced at her evilly while they travelled. She chose not to bother Sam and Frodo with the occurrences; it appeared to be the last thing they wanted. Frodo looked weak and troubled, he leaned on Sam both physically and emotionally. She wished greatly for Brialvastor, but decided against summoning her horse to a place so close to the dark land. He was too dear to her for that.
It was nearly morning when they left the path at last and came to a small lake. It was secluded deep in a beautiful forest, which showed blissful little evidence of the evil nearby. The very air was fresh; and she drank it like a rich wine, feeling it invigorate her body and mind, clearing her head so she could think straight. After the party had drunk a little – all but Gollum, that is, - they moved on. Sam and Frodo found a place to sleep, in some fern, and Sam got Gollum to fetch a rabbit for him – after some pleading and wheedling.
Frodo fell almost instantly asleep, and she sat beside Sam and looked at the hobbit, so calm in sleep. She pitied him greatly, then, for how much had been asked of him. A great restlessness grew in her, however, while Sam cooked his herbs on the carefully-made fire, which produced no smoke. Finally she got up, and drew her elven cloak about her.
'Sam,' she explained, 'I am going for a wander. I shall take my sword and daggers, and my bow and arrows too, for I fear something is not right in these woods. I should be back soon. Take care of yourself, and Frodo. If you desperately need me later, and there is nothing else to be done, call my name, and I shall spring to your side.'
'Alright, lady,' said Sam, wondering at how strong and bold she looked in the early-morning light below the trees.
She moved away silently, blending perfectly into the forest so soon nothing could be seen of her. First she made her way to the lake, and then past it. Suddenly she felt so much joy in her that she broke into a run, skipping over bush and log, stopping to smell pretty flowers or wonder at some passing animal or call of an unusual bird. She had not felt so happy since leaving Lothlorien.
Her guard was down when they appeared: six tall men, dressed in brown and green clothes for warfare, carrying swords. They sprang from all around her, jumping out of the cover of bushes and trees, surrounding her completely.
'Halt, wanderer in Ithilien!' One called in the Common tongue.
She didn't think. All she felt was a threat to her and her friends, and she had left them far away. Even now they might be being similarly attacked… She drew Celebdîn from its sheath, and with a cry of battle attacked the nearest man to her. She didn't mean to kill, merely to disable, and that was what she did: her first hit was with the flat side of the sword, directly on his shinbones. She heard something crack nastily, and with a cry he fell to the floor. She was raising the blade to move over to the next man when it was struck from her hand. Barely pausing she raised her fists and pummelled the next man with a volley of punches, while her foot lashed up and kicked away his weapon. She carried on attacking, violently and in blind rage, until something hard hit her on the head.
She blacked out, but only for a second, until she hit the ground. There was muttering around her: 'what do we do with the wildcat?' 'Take her to the Lord Faramir.' 'She attacked us wilfully! She deserves to die.' But the leading voice, that of an older man, won the argument. 'There'll be no killing here. Tie her up and we'll lead her before Faramir, see what he has to say about her.' The others agreed, some more reluctantly than others.
She still couldn't move. One of them, she realised, was holding her down. She cursed at him fluently in Quenya, calling him all the vile names she could think up. 'An elf!' The men wondered, but no more was made of it: they tied her, still struggling, at the wrists, so they were firmly behind her back.
A man loomed up before her. He helped her to her feet, and her face was not unkind. 'Now, lady,' he said, 'as long as you behave there'll be no more trouble here…' She spat in his face, and brought up a knee firmly into his groin. He moaned a little, but was remarkably composed. He stared at her in anger for a while, and then ordered, 'have her gagged too, then, as she wont co-operate. Iolomor, Provar,' he motioned to two men, 'you hold her between you while we walk. Cather, you ready your arrow and aim it at her. Lady,' he warned gravely, 'if you try to run, this man will shoot. That I can guarantee. And Cather is a very good shot.'
She nodded slowly. She felt tears brimming, tears of helplessness, but she held them back, determined to be brave. Then a man behind her kicked her in the back of the legs cruelly, and she stumbled forward awkwardly. The lead man picked up her sword, and carried it after them.
