Sarah here again! *gasps* Whoa. I'm so glad you liked it! You're talking to the girl who used to avoid action like the plague until she started writing LOTR and, well, it became unavoidable.
phoenixqueen: 'Trouble' with a capital 'T'! I guess we can cut Harnwe a little slack, since it was 'try a gamble' or 'be wiped out', but you're very right. And yes… Denethor… *grimaces* I may write him, but that doesn't mean I have to like him. ; ) And I'm so glad you liked our take on Thorongil!! *big smile* It's a tough thing making him human, and yet not stupid; but we don't want to turn him into a Mary Sue here. : D
Halo: *smacks Halo's computer* Behave! And it's okay, we're glad you liked it!! : )
Mercredi: *hugs Mercredi* Thank you for your encouraging review! Particularly in regards to our villains (who we worked hard on), our POVs (which we worried over), our setting, and our character portrayals (we are VERY fond of our heroes here and would like to do them justice if it can be managed). All in all: you have quite compensated for coming in late, and please, have a cookie! ; )
fliewatuet: *passes word on to Mavranor that she has a fan* Thanks! Mavranor was a combined brainchild (or brainvillain, if you will) and we tried hard to make her believable, etc. Yeah, Denethor's a good fighter, but not very good at getting along with the other children. ; )
Asen: *restrains Asen* Don't hurt yourself!! Please, it's okay, it's okay! We're delighted to have you and don't mind a bit if *when* you show up, so long as you like it. As for the beginning: if you mean Harnwe and Mavranor's introduction, you wouldn't have found anything about that in the appendices anyway, so don't worry. We attempted to make the plot simpler later on, but then, we add a bunch more characters later on too, so maybe it'll get worse… : |
Starfleet Hobbit: *blushes* Golly, thanks! Like I said, I've never been Action Girl. : D
RainyDayz: Hanta le, mellon nin! Of course they haven't forgotten! *scandalized look* Currently they're just a little busy. ; ) And to be exact: they haven't seen each other for ten years, and it's been twelve years since Death or Despair. Not too bad, but you're right, they're due for a reunion. When? Not for a while, I'm afraid… *sheepish look* And I'm glad you liked our captain/soldier relationship!
None: Thanks! But I'm afraid they don't meet for a while… *ducks rotten fruit*
Elwen: Don't worry, he learned! : D
e: It made perfect sense and was, at the same time, very complimentary! Thank you! : ) As much as we dislike Denethor over here, we tried not to take away from the fact that he *was* a good leader, even if nothing else (say, *father*, for example). If you thought he let the Southrons through on purpose to get rid of Thorongil, I can assure you we did not mean it that way (though you're right: he probably could have convinced himself that his actions were valid if he had done so); but aside from that, I guess we're going to have to plead 'ignorance' on his behalf and say that he just didn't know the enemy was behind him. Is that a little better? And Legolas and Aragorn *will* meet… eventually. *bites lower lip* Um, I'm afraid it won't be for a while, though; just to warn you. *makes a hasty retreat* Thanksagainandhere'syourupdate!
Lina: *falls over laughing* Good grief, will our villains never get a moment's peace?? ; D And Thorongil does have a wee bit of a reputation in that line, doesn't he? *glances significantly at Cassia and Sio*
Eomer: *talks as understandably as she can with a man whose hair looks, well, not 'fluffy', but more 'electrified'* See, it's like this: you've got a sword, and a nice scowl, and a helmet; and besides that: you're HERE! Everybody else is too far south! *notices she's not convincing Eomer-the-weary-of-catching-plot-wreckers* We'll give you some sedatives for Lina and a life-time supply of hair gel! : )
sabercrazy: Um, heh heh, I don't know if caffeine would be the greatest idea just now; you're apt to start bouncing off the walls… the ceiling… me… : D As for Thorongil, well, he needs to work on that a bit, doesn't he?
And now, for some NEW characters! *smiles brightly*
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Thorongil
By Sarah and Hannah (Siri)
(disclaimers, explanations, and summaries
available at the top of chapter 1)
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Chapter 5
Thengel
A long banner, green with the silhouette of a white horse upon it, rippled back in the autumn wind, snapping against itself in the late afternoon light. The White Mountains shone in the distance, and as Thengel, sixteenth king of Rohan, paced the familiar worn stone steps, he felt contentment wash over him. Though he had long avoided Meduseld in the days of his father, it was now more his home then ever anywhere else could have been. Behind him the oaken doors opened and the lithe figure of a woman slipped out to join him, a long green cloak protecting her from the chill and a second cloak hung over her arm.
"Thengel, it is cold." She murmured, proffering the cloak, and as he turned to take it from her, he felt his breath catch in his chest. Even after years as man and wife, he had still not accustomed himself to her beauty.
"Thank you," he smiled, accepting the warm garment.
"What was my lord thinking of?" she asked softly, pushing at several strands of hair that had come unbound from their braid, and moving closer to him, indicating the mountains with a tilt of her head.
"Gondor," he replied honestly. "I was recalling my years there."
Her blue eyes found his searchingly, "Do you wish your people had found a different ruler?"
"You always were direct, Steelsheen my love," he chuckled, using the peoples' name for her.
"Thank you," she smiled graciously, "and the question still stands unanswered."
"Persistent!" Thengel exclaimed, as if discovering her charms for the first time, yet he subsided at her look, "Very well, I shall give you an honest answer. No. I do not regret returning to the place of my birth, and now I am here, not even Lossarnach in the spring could call me away. Still, my heart does rest there in part, for I spent many happy years within those borders and the places where we are happiest never truly leave us, nor let us free."
"Aye. There you did many brave things," she reminisced, lost along with him now, "and won great renown."
"Ah, but renown was not the only thing I won there," his smile caressed her roguishly, "nor was it the most valuable. Indeed, all the battles that ever I fought there paled in both danger and difficulty when compared with the quest for a certain lady's hand."
"Oh?" she questioned, feigning both ignorance and suspicion while her eyes danced, "Was it someone I knew?"
"Very well, though I'm forced to admit that, though younger than thee, her beauty was but half of yours."
Silvery laughter greeted this grave reply, causing the guards at the foot of the steps to look up in surprise. "My lord has the light tongue of the elves to speak thus so flatteringly to a mother of five!"
"Morwen!" he cried, using her real name, "would you call me false?"
"Nay," she reassured him quickly, "for love can be blind and yet not false. Still, let us not quarrel, for evening draws near and your son has just returned from Dunharrow and will have a report to make."
Entering the main hall of their home, they were greeted by the sight of their son and his next younger sister conversing quietly over some bit of needlework she was stitching, and as they drew nearer, Thengel's eyebrows rose.
"Its head is smaller than its hooves," his son was insisting, bending down and peering at the design critically, "and its tail would never flow like that."
The girl snorted in disgust, "The tail isn't meant to be wholly true to nature, brother. It is meant to show the majesty of the horse as it glides swiftly across the plains."
"Horses don't glide, they gallop, and there is still the matter of the head and hooves." There was a wicked gleam in the young man's eyes and for a moment he looked like a full boy again. In truth, though only nineteen, he was already trusted with much by his father and was considered a very accomplished rider and leader by the Rohirrim.
His sister, on the other hand, looked every speck the youth of her twelve years as she bit back, "*I* will not critique your spear throwing, and *you* shall leave me to my tapestry. Or would you rather set it aright yourself? It would be interesting sport indeed to see your clumsy fingers with a needle."
"Taetho, calm down," Morwen admonished, finally bringing the argument to halt, "And Théoden, leave your sister be. I honestly thought that by this age you would be through nettling each other so often."
Thengel chuckled at the dubious looks the two cast at one another. Of all their children, their third and fourth had always had a knack for irritating each other, and now that his two eldest daughters had left his home and married, it fell chiefly to his wife to put out the brush fires.
Noticing his father, Théoden seemed to stand straighter, falling into the role of a soldier ready to report to his lord. Thengel raised a hand reassuringly, "Unless it is urgent, my son, we can wait until after the evening meal."
Théoden relaxed, "It is not—" His sentence was cut off as something petite suddenly burst in upon them and flung itself at him, squealing loudly.
"Thayden, Thayden!" The comet resolved itself into a small girl of four in a spring green dress and bodice, holding her arms out eagerly.
Laughing with pleasure, the young man caught up his youngest sister and swung her up in a wide arch, sitting down on the hearth stone with her between his knees when she landed, "And how fared your pony in my absence, small one?"
She made a comical face, her small nose screwed up beneath her wide eyes, "Father won't let me gallop when you're not with me. And I'm not small anymore." She tacked on as an afterthought.
"Father has his reasons for everything," her brother assured her gravely, tousling her yellow hair affectionately. "But don't worry, we'll gallop tomorrow, as much as your pony can manage. And why aren't you small anymore?"
Her eyes widened, "I've grown bigger since you left. Didn't you notice?"
Her parents laughed and Taetho looked up from her work, replying with conviction, "Theodwyn, he's only been away for a few weeks."
"Never mind. I don't think I'd be able to stop calling you 'small one' even if you were to grow taller than I," Théoden said, standing and taking her hand as a servant came to tell them that supper was ready.
Looking up at her adored big brother's great height, Theodwyn blinked in awe, "I'd be able to ride a *horse* then, wouldn't I?"
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The hall was dark and quiet after the departure of nearly everyone for bed, and the only light was the red glow of the fire. Thengel sat in his chair, smoke spilling lazily from the end of his pipe as he sorted through his son's report, or what little there was of it. Things were remarkably peaceful in his realm.
Théoden was still standing in front of him, one hand resting on the mantle, and his stance relaxed — his weapons and riding gear gone. The silence continued on, but it was not the unpleasant silence of two dissimilar people with nothing to discuss. Thengel was his son's king, but he was also his father, and through the years he had tried to cultivate both aspects of their relationship. It had always been a misery to him that he and his own father had never been capable of moments like this; that in the end the only way to survive his home had been to escape it altogether.
Looking up, Thengel noticed a frown on his son's face, and asked softly, "Is there something amiss?"
Théoden started from his reverie, and said, not quite truthfully, "Nothing of serious note."
"Théoden," his father murmured, "if it is a question, you may feel free to ask it."
The young man blinked, surprised at his lord's insight, and said hesitantly, "I was considering Isengard. Father, do you believe it was," he paused, struggling, then blurted, "*wise* to give it over to the care of — of someone whom you did not know?"
Thengel nodded slowly, "Ah, I see. I wondered if you would ever ask me that."
"Please don't think me disrespectful father," Théoden said hastily, but his father held up a hand to quiet him.
"No, it is the duty of rulers to question everything that bears upon them or their subjects. I asked myself that very question when the wizard first made his claim, but concluded that there could actually be no safer guardian for the Gap than he. After a close talk with him, my opinion was confirmed. I had never before, nor ever since met such a wise and learned man — if man he be — and I ceased from that moment to fear my judgment on the matter." He looked at his son thoughtfully, "It might be well for you to meet him yourself, so that you can decide on your own account."
Théoden opened his mouth, but there came the sound of the door opening and instead he turned to face the messenger who entered and bowed.
"Wé stu Thengel há l," he greeted his lord respectfully, "I bring tidings from the Ford of Isen. A large company of orcs from the northwest have crossed, and are bound for our fields and horses. Several of your marshals have already begun to muster their é oreds to bring to our aid, but we will likely have need of more before the day is won."
Thengel rose, nodding in understanding and noting the weariness of the rider before him, "Very well. Go to the guardrooms and rest now, I will see to the matter."
With another bow, the messenger left, and Thengel turned to his son, "It should not prove difficult to drive them back if enough riders are provided, but it would be well for a leader to be sent as well, to oversee and direct the different companies."
Théoden inclined his head in agreement, "Of course. Shall I go?"
Thengel paused to look at his son — the idea had not actually occurred to him, and he had planned to go himself, but as he caught sight of the determination in the young man's blue eyes, he reconsidered. Here was one situation he felt sure would not be of too long a duration, and it stood well within his son's abilities. And one day Théoden would be king. Giving a measured nod, he said, "Yes. Théoden, second Marshal of the Riddermark, I hereby give you command of the defenses of our western border, and place all captains and riders under your authority. You are to be followed, and your directions are to be accepted as though you were myself."
Straightening from his relaxed position, Théoden bowed as the messenger had and said in the same formal tone, "Your command shall be obeyed, my lord."
Turning from his father, he strode across the room to go and ready his horse, and then paused in the doorway, his manner altering just slightly, "Would you kindly send my apologies to Theodwyn? I shall not be able to take her riding on the morrow as I said I would."
A smile touched the king's lips even as a sense of worry passed over him for his son's safety. "I will tell her myself."
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"My Lord Denethor," a soldier spoke suddenly from the side, "Captain Thorongil has arrived with his men."
Denethor looked up in surprise; he had not expected the captain to reach him in anything less than a fortnight, if he decided to follow at all. "Bid him come forward."
Thorongil obeyed, Duurben once more at his side. "My lord," he greeted Denethor, inclining his head, "I apologize for our delay. We were hampered in our travels by some of the enemy, and did not cross the Erui until three days ago." He made no mention of being left to catch up, but there was a vaguely questioning look in his eyes as he surveyed Denethor's face.
"How many of your men were lost?" Denethor asked calmly, noticing Duurben's bandage.
"None, my lord, though we had a few badly injured."
"And the group that attacked you?"
"We did not stay to find out, but deemed the number of them remaining to be small."
Denethor opened his mouth as if to question him further, but a messenger approached swiftly and hailed him, saying that a challenge had been issued by the Southron general.
"I must go and see to this," the future Steward said briefly, turning to follow the messenger. "You will explain the rest of your doings to me later, Thorongil. Until then, treat your wounded and I will call when I have need of you."
Thorongil nodded, seeming rather pleased than otherwise at being so summarily dismissed. "Come, Duurben, I must examine your forehead again and see to Beren and the others. Then I intend to have the longest, most dreamless sleep since… since my father's when I finally returned from my first visit to our neighbors!"
Duurben blinked at the man, wondering why he was chuckling so heartily, but knowing that he was unlikely to ever find out.
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The following week was a tense one in the Southron camp, for eventually it was discovered that their destination was nothing but a wasteland, and this unnerved the people. Harnwe also was anxious for the return of his scouts, but managed a confident attitude when in company with all but his wife and his chief general, Brerg. Around these he alternately fumed at the delay, and cheered them with assurances of his certain victory. Through it all Mavranor smiled and accepted, and carefully removed all traces of her own worry. And when the first of the scouts began to return, not a soul could see beneath the veneer of pleasure for her husband to the utter relief of someone who has just cheated death, real or imagined.
The third scout to arrive came straight to Harnwe's tent with all haste, and was admitted at once to be greeted both eagerly, and also affectionately, for he was Gwanur, the queen's brother. His dark skin seemed to glow as he took his seat and began to tell what he had seen.
"I traveled directly west, as you instructed, my lord, and before many days had gone I found myself approaching green land and a river. There was not enough land on the near side of this river, so I passed over to the far side and at last found inhabitants." Harnwe leaned forward intently, but remained silent as his brother-in-law continued, "There were outposts to guard the border, but their walls are not strong enough, I judge, to keep back our mûmakil, nor catapults, and might soon be taken."
"And would such an undertaking be worth the men?" Harnwe asked.
Gwanur nodded quickly, "Indeed, lord, for there are long, flat plains on which we could breed our animals, and rich earth, and stone, and patches of wood as well, even excluding the river, which is wide and fresh."
He went on to tell of the people who lived there — simple people, with few weapons in evidence, who seemed chiefly interested in the breeding of livestock, and farming. Slowly, Harnwe's eyes began to snap with eagerness, scarcely believing that such good fortune could have come to him. It was even an even better alternative than he could have imagined, and he knew well he could trust Gwanur's word. The young man, though easily lead and disinclined to pause and think when his blood was up, had yet a factual sort of intelligence and was completely loyal to his sister and his king.
"I thank you for your report," Harnwe said, when at last his brother-in-law finished speaking, "I will consider what you have told me."
Mavranor watched her husband intently as her brother left, hope rising within her at his altered expression. "My lord…?" She left the question hanging.
"It is perfect, my own. Perfect. I shall not wait another day, we will begin to move camp tomorrow, before our supplies sink any lower. We can stop on this side of the river and cross on the mûmakil, floating our other weapons over and still catching them by surprise. They will not stand a chance against us."
Smiling proudly, his wife replied, "Of course not."
TBC…