Sarah here again! : )

EVERYONE: Go to Siri's bio and there is a link to a map which might help you understand where everything is now. We'll be giving you more detailed alterations of this map as you need them later on (I think we have three in all), but just so you know: most of the rest of this fic takes place in the area shown here. : )

reginabean: *bobs her head in time to regina's bouncing* There's your map; hope it helps! And I'm thrilled you liked that line (one of those pet pieces of mine that I wondered if anybody would enjoy). : )

None: Thanks I'm glad you're still enjoying this, in spite of Legolas' absence! And you liked my pet line also! *big smile* As for *how* Legolas and Thorongil will meet… *thinks on it* no, no clue, I'm afraid. ; )

Rainydayz: *shocked expression* What makes you think we hate you?? We don't hate you in the slightest! *thinks a moment* Oh. Is this because we are making you wait for Legolas to meet up with Thorongil? That's not hatred, that's plot! ; ) Thank you for liking Duurben, in spite of your doubts about his survival (which, if it helps any, we said at the beginning that only two people die in this fic). And, uh, your welcome for the humor… *pats dejected, Meldir-missing reader on the back* We're REALLY sorry about that; we never even thought that so many people would wind up liking him! As for 'when' on Thorongil and Legolas… um… still not for a while. *looks guilty*

Lina: *laughs long enough to make her cat worry* Leave poor Thorongil alone! He as enough he'll have to deal with here. ; ) You'll be interested to know that Hannah and I have picked up a sort of pattern in discussing your reviews: (H) *coming in to find Sarah hunched over laptop with an I'm-reading-something-too-goofy-to-be-allowed expression on her face* Did Lina post? (S) *long pause as she considers whether she can answer without laughing*…. yup. (H) And? (S) You know Lina! (H) *laughs, even though she hasn't even read the review yet* Oh no! (S) Yup. ; D

Eomer: *dodges falling toast* My condolences on your horse. Patience is a virtue, yes, as we have reason to know from living in the same house with Chloe! You are in South Carolina? How funny! We are north of you! *dodges more toast* Yeah -- morale -- very high indeed… *flees* ; )

Gwyn: Thank you! Though I think a lot of our success comes from there being two of us. Sort of like Sio does mush and Cassia does torture; only our roles are not quite so easily defined, and Chloe completely blows both of us out of the water with her angst. I guess our titles say most of it: Hannah is the crazy, starry-eyed visionary (and she usually introduces the weird plot twists and torture scenarios ), and I'm the bookish, plausibility-mad realist (and I usually add the Tolkien history and hammer out the boring practical stuff, like believability and editing). ; )

Mercredi: Ek! I know too well the vagaries of internet connections. ; ) Thank you so much! We really weren't planning for anyone to get so upset over Meldir's death, so I'm glad you at least thought it was balanced! Furthermore I'm glad you approved of our new not-evil-for-the-sake-of-being-evil bad guy attempts. As for Legolas… *begins to hum her 'I'm not allowed to say' hum mournfully* The following chapter here is (I'm sad to say) pretty much the last we see of Thengel's family in Edoras, but I am extremely pleased that you enjoyed them so much while they were there!! : ) Of all the questions you *don't* expect to hear from female authors: "Can we do women??" is probably the oddest, yet it came in quite frequently in this fic; we constantly found ourselves psychoanalyzing and second-guessing every move each of them made, wondering if we were getting too close to (*gasp* you guessed it) MARY SUE!! We wanted realism, and above all: strong *women* (like Tolkien wrote), not women trying to be men (a different thing all together). All that to say: your words were very welcome, and no small relief! Now if we can only keep it up… ; ) *grins from ear to ear* A movie? Cool! : D The Wild Men kind of surprised us as well; sort of just popped out of the Tolkien Companion entry I was reading and into our fic, and as it happens: Thorongil's delays are what are keeping all you readers from seeing Legolas! So it's not our fault that it's taking this long. Last of all: Duurben. Talk about Frankenstein; no sooner was Duurben invented (solely for the purpose of having someone for Thorongil to talk to in the first scene), then he immediately began to *gasp* take on a character, and furthermore *'nuther gasp* went so far as to follow Thorongil all the way to Rohan! We couldn't have stopped him if we wanted to. As for his skills in woods: don't worry, he really isn't a villain in disguise sent to delay Thorongil with unexpected ravines, or anything; I think we figured any river so well hidden that Thorongil could fall into like that was too well hidden for Duurben to see (especially since you're right: he has no where near ranger-like skills in the woods)! Thorongil was just teasing him about missing it. ; ) And Duurben's possible death… er, I can't say, but maybe it'll help if I tell you we really aren't the type of fic-writers that enjoy slaying all our characters! Really! ; ) I'll shut up and post now…

staran: Thanks! And I'm afraid Legolas and Thorongil won't be meeting for a while… Sorry 'bout that!

Starfleet Hobbit: Speechless, eh? Wow! Good enough for us! ; )

Asen: *watches Asen fly* Cool! And thanks a bunch! Sorry about your comp; want me to come kick it for ya? : P

w: Whoopsie! Fixing the Duurben-in-the-ravine thing was one of the items on my 'To Edit' list, but it looks like I missed it… Basically, we decided that by grabbing Duurben, Thorongil kept him from landing head-first and possibly breaking his neck, but that in their current position (T halfway into the ravine himself, and D hanging off his arm) they wouldn't be able to pull themselves out without Duurben taking a dip. So we dunked him after all. Thank you for cutting us slack on that; hope the explanation makes sense! : ) Many thanks on behalf of Duurben!! Perhaps it is because we are never quite sure if we can take credit for Thorongil and Legolas (because they aren't our characters) that we are always thrilled when people like our OCs! The only thing is: I'm not sure if we can completely take credit for Duurben either; like a good OC, no sooner did we invent him (originally just to talk with Thorongil at the beginning and then leave the fic *snort*) than he proceeded to have a history, and a personality, and several other things he was never intended to have! : D And thank you too on the subject of Aragorn's frustration!! I suppose that goes under the heading of 'attempts at keeping him human in spite of elven upbringing and rabid fans', or something. Last of all: thanks for the grammar heads up!! You weren't a nag at all, and I'm glad to know that for future story writing. : ) All in all? You continue to make my day with your reviews. I'm so glad you're enjoying this!!

sabercrazy: I guess he's never heard that one since you're right: he *does* seem to make quite a habit of walking off precipices! ; ) The villains in these stories seldom know what they're in for; they see 'elf' and 'ranger', never 'trouble' and 'disaster'. As for torture; well yeah, naturally! It won't be Cassia/Sio stuff, but it should be fun! : D And fortunately (or unfortunately?), Hannah was not the one posting today after all! Many of the beginning chapters on this particular fic wound up being mine… : P

And here at last is the post… *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 9

Familiar Faces

"Pleeease, Ta'tho!" The small girl bobbed up and down on her small feet, her hood falling over her face and blinding her momentarily, causing her to bump into the passage wall. With a sigh, Taetho shifted the stack of linen to her other hip and straightened her sister's cloak, rubbing the child's nose where she had scratched it on the stones, and smiling in spite of herself at the way Theodwyn absolutely refused to hold still.

"I'm sorry, little sister, but I have much to do! Mother is quite busy with the affairs of the country, and it's my task to see that the house stays in order." She shifted the linen again, pushing several stray wisps of flaxen hair from her face.

Theodwyn began to bounce again in her eagerness, her hood threatening to fall forward again, or perhaps off all together, "But Mother said you'd been inside too long, she-she said you should go out some, and-and maybe *ride*!" The brilliant blue eyes sparkled with enthusiasm over the last word. She had not had a ride in a long while, between the absence of first her adored brother, and then her father. Knowing this, Taetho sighed again and nodded.

"Very well, just as soon as I put away these things here, we'll go for a short ride. You go wait in the stables with Foen." Theodwyn gave a triumphant crow of delight, and sped away, her hood tumbling off the back of her golden curls and her small boots making an echoing *pat pat* all the way down the stone halls.

Foen was pale as the snow on the White Mountains, and as eager for a ride as his mistress, who pranced impatiently beside him, wondering how long it could possibly take Taetho to put away a few bed linens and get her cloak. The stable hand had already saddled the pony, and in a sudden brilliant thought, Theodwyn decided to take Foen on a short trot around the courtyard. She couldn't remember having ever done this on her own before, and the prospect dazzled her completely, consequently causing her to forget that the courtyard was often full of incoming and outgoing messengers on mounts much larger than her own.

Opening the stable door, she guided her pony out and paused for a moment, eyeing the currently empty courtyard. Satisfied that Taetho had still not arrived, she went to the animal's side and in one move, landed herself firmly in the saddle. Foen went mad. Whinnying suddenly, as if in pain, the small pony planted its front feet and bucked hard, trying to pitch his rider from her seat. If she had not been brought up more in the saddle than on her own two feet, the girl would most certainly have been thrown to the hard paving stones, but even as Foen kicked, and kicked again, she tightened her grip harder. Realizing he could not get rid of whatever was paining him that way, he instead set off at a terrific speed around the courtyard's perimeter, flying as if a panther was on his heels. Holding on desperately, Theodwyn's eyes grew wide as walnuts, her hair losing its ribbon and flying everywhere, mixing with Foen's short, white mane. Gray pillars whipped by, then whipped by again, and the stones beneath the pony's hooves were blurred as the girl tried to remember how to stop her pet when she wanted to get off.

Suddenly, there was a much louder clattering and Theodwyn caught just a glimpse of two horses coming to a halt at the courtyard entrance before she passed them. With a short command, one of the horses started after her, running along the inside of the wild pony's circle and easily keeping pace with Foen, who was growing tired even in his panic. Leaning down, the horse's rider slipped one hand under the small girl's arms and lifted her out of her own saddle and up into his, slowing his horse with his other hand just as she settled in front of him. Foen ran on for a little ways and then stopped, trembling and sweating in front of his stable door, his large, dark animal eyes confused.

"Hush, now," Thorongil murmured, falling into the language of the Rohirrim as the child began to cry. Slowly he moved his horse over next to the pony and dismounted with her in his arms as simultaneously Duurben's horse drew up beside him and Taetho finally arrived.

The older girl took in the sight of her sister being carried by an unfamiliar man with a start, demanding in a voice imperious with worry, "What, sir, are you doing with my sister?"

Thorongil smiled reassuringly as he set Theodwyn down, replying, "Her pony was running a little wild, and was about to throw her from its saddle when we arrived. I took the liberty of removing her from the animal before she came to harm. I hope I have not intruded, my lady."

Taetho drew her shaking sister close, mollified by the respectful tone, the fact that the words had been spoken in her own tongue, and the presence of her sister, tousled, but safely on the ground. "Nay, sir, you have not, and I apologize if I sounded terse. Are you all right, Theodwyn?" Here she stooped to the child's level.

"Ye-yes…" she wavered, tears streaking her cheeks, "F-Foen tried to- tried to *kick me o-off*!" These last words were spoken with a tone of outraged betrayal as she glanced at the offending beast, who was now standing without his saddle as Thorongil examined his back.

"Here is the mischief," the captain finally announced, pulling a wicked looking thorny barb from the underside of the saddle blanket and examining a corresponding red mark on the pony's milky back. "When your sister mounted, she unintentionally drove this into the creature's back; little wonder it tried to rid itself of her weight. You should alert your stable hands to pay closer attention for brambles."

"I will," agreed Taetho, adding to her sister, "you know quite well you're not allowed to be riding alone."

Theodwyn pushed at her wild hair, trying to clear her vision, "B-but you weren't coming."

"I most certainly *was*! You only waited for a quarter of an hour. Besides, you also know that I do not live in my riding gear as Father and Théoden do; I had to change before I came."

"I wish Father was h-home." The child hiccupped, hoping to take refuge from the scolding in changing the subject.

Thorongil, who had just closed Foen in his stable, looked up. "I'm sorry, but is the king not currently here?"

Taetho shook her head briskly, "No, sir, but I will take you to Queen Morwen instead. You may stable your horses here."

"Thank you," Thorongil inclined his head gravely, matching the girl's mature manner. Then he turned to Duurben and said in the common tongue, "We are to stable the horses here."

Duurben sighed inaudibly and dismounted, wondering if Thorongil would remember to fill him in later on whatever it was he had missed.

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Thengel stood erect on the battlements of Ladin and looked out across the plains in the direction of the forward fort, Tulganif — though he could not see it. "How much of the fort remained when you were forced to abandon it?" He asked the marshal beside him.

"The eastern walls were all but demolished, and the guard towers had been knocked down on that side as well. The western walls were still standing when we fled, but I know not whether the enemy left them thus. We were fortunate to escape with as many men as we did." Bronweg said this with a sort of desperate rationalization in his tone, as if he did not quite believe it.

"Yes, you were." Thengel nodded, not seeming to notice. "Where did you station the survivors?"

"Most are still here with me, but several were native to the area around Medui, and so they went there. The man I told you about — the one who spotted the attack just before it came — he was amongst them. I've heard rumors, though, that the captain at Medui, Eorwine by name, was slain during the second attack, and I've been considering sending a messenger to ascertain the truth of the matter, but I have no one to spare at the moment. It is vital that the Medui remains well manned, for all of our few Southron prisoners were sent there and will have need of a guard."

"Still, it can wait a little longer — at least until the troops are better settled. These forts will stand at least that long, will they not?" Thengel had not meant the question to be entirely serious, but Bronweg frowned worriedly.

"Weeks ago I would have said yes, my lord, but now…" He shook his head; his hand trailed along the mortar line between the stones on the parapet and a thin crumbling of dust coated his dark glove. "I fear I have failed in my trust. These three forts were placed under my command, yet it was not until the attack was begun that I realized how weak they had become."

"Nay, it was no direct fault of yours." Thengel sighed, gazing down at the worn stones of Ladin beneath him. "We have not been attacked from this direction in some time, and so these forts were neglected. It is a mistake we have learned at a bitter price not to repeat."

"Yes," the marshal agreed softly. Off to the side, a messenger approached the two men tentatively, unsure of whether their speech was confidential.

"What is it?" Thengel asked.

"Two men from Gondor, sire," the messenger replied, bowing.

"Gondor?" Thengel's sharp eyes traveled outward, as if expecting to see a mass of troops coming over the hills behind him, then focused closer on two men standing at the head of the stairs. "Bid them come."

Both men were dressed similarly with the white tree upon their breasts, but one had a star-shaped clasp on his shoulder, and it was he who spoke, using the language of the Rohirrim: "Hail, King Thengel. I bring greetings from Steward Ecthelion and word of the troops you requested."

The king blinked as he recognized the voice, and his eyes narrowed against the glare of the sunlight as he tried to recall a name to match the face. "Captain Thorongil?"

Thorongil bowed, acknowledging the title as his own, "Well met, sire, though I am surprised you remembered me so speedily."

"I would be hard-pressed indeed to forget you, though you only served under me for five years." Thengel's voice sounded pleased at the rediscovery of an old captain. "And what news do you bring me?"

The captain told his story briefly, dissatisfaction with his own tale showing clearly on his face, and he ended finally with, "The Lady Morwen then sent us on to meet you here. We have little skill to offer between us, but what we have is at your command."

Thengel nodded in acknowledgement of the offer, not deeming it insignificant at all, but at the same time dealing with his own discouragement. "You say you left orders that if your troops returned to their outpost sooner than looked for, they would be sent directly here? That is well, though we will not lay our plans on it." He turned to gaze out at his men, matched less than equally with the companies of the enemy, who were now occupying the remains of his forward fort.

"Do you have any orders for us directly?" Thorongil asked, ready to withdraw if he was no longer needed.

"Yes, in fact. I have things I must see to, but Bronweg can explain to you what has transpired here, and then I desire the both of you to travel north to Medui. There are rumors that the captain there is dead, and if it should prove true I wish you to hold the fort, Thorongil. If he yet lives, send me a message, but remain there still and aid him in the arrangement of the defense. That is where I can best use you."

"Thank you, sire," Thorongil bowed, and the king descended the battlements, leaving Bronweg behind with the two men of Gondor.

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It took the large portion of the journey north for Thorongil to re-explain the whole history of the Southron attack for Duurben's benefit, as Bronweg had communicated the whole tale in his own tongue. When they were through there was a long silence, except for the thudding of the horses hoofs over the low hills. Thorongil's thoughts were absorbed completely in the land around him as he recalled stories of the last invasion here by the Easterlings of Rhû n during the reign of King Brego.

The Wold was used by the Rohirrim chiefly for the breeding and pasturing of their horses, hence the presence of the three forts on its eastern border; the people of Rohan had not wished to take any further chances with the safety of creatures that were more than a mere livelihood to them. With the exception of small villages dotted throughout the rolling plains there were few other human inhabitants here, and the horses were free to range, having been marked for later retrieval by their owners. Around the forts themselves several small, but thriving towns had sprung up, providing a place for the villagers to purchase supplies and appearing safe in the shadow of the stone walls; the refugees from Tulganif now knew better than to trust appearances.

As the two men crested a fresh rise Medui appeared before them, a huddle of houses and tents pressed against its western side — there was no room within the fort itself for all of Thengel's troops to sleep. Medui, they realized, was built almost exactly as Ladin had been: not overly large and easily manned by only a hundred men; indeed, incapable of holding very many more on its wall tops. There was a wide gate in the western wall, and two smaller ones on the north and south walls, but no entrance on the east. The walls themselves were wide enough for two men to walk abreast only, and were high, but worn, with guard towers on the four corners and loopholes stationed all the way around the battlements.

The two men were let in by the southern gate and directed to a long, low building inside where they stabled their weary animals. There was a courtyard in the center of the fort, a building where the men slept, one for the blacksmith, one for the weaponry, a large storehouse, a well, a long dining hall, and several more buildings that Duurben could not identify. Men appeared to be everywhere, and it was difficult not to be badly jostled as they tried to make their way through.

"Captain Eorwine?"

The man glanced up as Thorongil addressed him, looking weary, "Yes, I am he."

"It is good to see that you still live, it was rumored you had perished in the attack."

Eorwine sighed, rubbing his forehead with a calloused hand, "There's plenty of time for that yet. What, may I ask, is your business with me?"

"We were sent by King Thengel to aid you in setting up your defenses." Thorongil said briefly, "I am Captain Thorongil, currently of Gondor, and this is my companion Duurben, also of that land. He does not speak your language, but he is a strong fighter and a good man."

Eorwine nodded, moving aside as two men brushed past them carrying bundles of arrows. "I'm sure I have some use for you, but I have been so taken with storing up extra weapons and trying to make repairs on our walls that much of the organizing of the defense had gone to a trusted soldier and friend of mine. It would be best if you addressed yourself to him."

"Where might I find him?" Thorongil asked, moving still farther aside as more men came through, separating him from Eorwine.

"The guard house!" The captain of the fort called, and then he was pulled away by someone else who needed his attention.

"Where are we going now?" Duurben asked, almost desperately, as Thorongil moved off at a brisk pace.

"You really must consider learning a second language, my friend. Nearly all the Rohirrim speak the common tongue to strangers, but not amongst themselves, and you will miss much." Thorongil shook his head, his tone mildly teasing, though Duurben didn't seem to realize it. "To answer your question: we're going to our new commander, whomever that may be."

Thorongil allowed himself to relax into the familiar atmosphere as he and Duurben walked. It had indeed been a long time and he had forgotten the open feeling of the plains. Here a chill wind churned the grasses and light from a radiant sun illumined all below. None could know the troubles these citizens of Rohan now suffered, it was impossible to feel anxious when all nature seemed at peace.

"I had forgotten how much I missed it." Thorongil said aloud without meaning to.

"Sir?" Duurben frowned slightly.

"All of this." The captain replied with a smile, moving his hand to indicate all around them. "I served here for years and became very familiar with the low hills and the openness of the sky."

Duurben nodded; his loyal spirit for his own country and his unfamiliarity with this land was evident on his face — still he too seemed to relax in the cool breeze and bright sunlight.

At last the two men reached their destination: a guardhouse built just inside the wall. Duurben gave way for his captain to go before him and Thorongil stepped into the doorway, only to be knocked several steps back by a figure who was leaving guardhouse hurriedly at the exact same moment.

The figure stumbled back, startled, and Thorongil gained his feet fully. "I am sorry sir!" The young man blurted in the common tongue.

"There is no harm done." Thorongil assured him, responding in kind, and looking now to see with whom he had collided. The young man was fair headed like most of those in Rohan and his face was handsome in a boyish way. Thorongil blinked — there was something strange about him, a sort of foreign familiarity.

The Rohirrim at last turned his own eyes to those of Thorongil and for a moment he only stared.

"Father!" He called suddenly, arousing someone else from within the guardhouse. In another moment a man, much the elder of his son, stepped into the light and there was no longer any mistaking Thorongil's first suspicions.

"Kelegalen?" He asked in wonder.

The elder man looked just as surprised. "It is not...Strider?"

Thorongil smiled suddenly. "Kelegalen!" He exclaimed and moved to embrace the man — much to the surprise of Duurben. "And Nethtalt." Thorongil turned to the younger man with a smile, "You have grown much since our last meeting."

Nethtalt did indeed look very much older, and his green eyes shone with a contentment and confidence Thorongil had not often seen in the terrible forges of Mount Gundabad. He was gladdened to see the change.

"We have seen neither you nor your friend since our last parting." Kelegalen said in amazement.

"I fear you are right," Thorongil nodded. "It has been far too long."

"And how come you here Strider?"

The captain of Gondor hid a smile. "I am not known as Strider by many here, Kelegalen, for it was only my nickname; I am called Thorongil now. Though, should it be better for you to call me by the name you with which you are more familiar, then I shall not dispute it."

Kelegalen shook his head with a laugh. "No, I would call you as you are known. How came you here Thorongil?" He asked again.

"I and my lieutenant, Duurben, are here on behalf of Steward Ecthelion and the people of Gondor to offer our aid to King Thengel."

Kelegalen frowned. "I see. I do indeed appreciate your aid, and am honored by your presence. However I wonder if more help is to come from Gondor?"

Thorongil let out a sigh. "It is an unfortunate time in Gondor and no further aid could be sent at present, though I am hopeful that more may come in time. Until then I am told that Duurben and myself are at your disposal and should do as you order."

"For this I am very thankful." Kelegalen smiled once more, and then turned to Duurben. "And for your aid as well, Lieutenant."

Duurben gave the Gondorian gesture of honor to the elder man then straightened once more. "I wish to serve in whatever way I can." The soldier gave no outward sign, but he was relieved he could at last understand the conversation, for both Kelegalen and Nethtalt had spoken with Thorongil in the common tongue.

Kelegalen stepped from the doorway and beckoned, "Nethtalt has a message to deliver just now, but come within and I will tell you all I can."

TBC…