*fanfare* Sarah again! *bows, ducking rotting fruit in the process* Okay, first another general announcement!
EVERYONE: Two sort-of-kind-of-explanations-for-why-Legolas-is-so-late: (1) Originally, we did not intend to have Legolas IN this fic. *gasp* That's why it's called 'Thorongil' and not something more inclusive. But we had only planned the beginning before we realized that (try as we might) we couldn't leave our favorite elf out, and so we began brainstorming him into our plot from that point on! : ) (2) Even considering that, we hadn't realized it took us this long to get back to him until we split the whole thing up into chapters. By that time we had a lot of stuff we didn't want to cut just for the sake of hitching Legolas closer to the beginning. Final note: this fic is around 30 chapters long, so don't worry -- you'll have plenty of stuff to read with Legolas in it! : D
Hope that clears some of that up and so that Hannah and I can at least post unmolested! LOL! ; D We're beginning (beginning, mind you) to get close to a second appearance on Legolas' part, and until then you can read about him in the most excellently written 'Stars of Harad' (given that Cassia/Sio are dividing their fic up a little more equitably). Thank you for your patience! : )
Okay, now in response to all our fabulous reviewers… : D
Halo: Thanks! I'm so happy you're happy! Kelegalen and Nethtalt are happy to see you too, I'm sure. ; D
None: *takes scolding, then gets a rather unconvincingly innocent expression on her face* Why in the world would you worry about him?
Gwyn: Yup, Thorongil is Strider! And here's hoping you might someday find a writing partner as well; plot concoction with a friend is boatloads of fun! I know what you mean about chapter length, but really it's all a matter of comparison. Compared to some of Cassia/Sio's chapters, ours are pretty short too!
Mercredi: We surprised you? Cool! It's been fun seeing D or D readers react to their reappearance. I'm glad you like Theodwyn's last scene, no matter how blurry she was at the time. ; ) And yes, they did seem to have rather a bad time of it, didn't they -- even considering how far they had to go. Fortunately, we ran out of creative delays… ; P
phoenixqueen: Yessiree, same Wild Men! We like inserting pieces of the books when we can. : ) LOL! I'm glad you liked their reintroduction! It probably would have been funny to seen Duurben's reaction there, but unfortunately, Kelegalen was disobligingly vague. *frowns at the man as if he has nothing whatsoever to do with her* Aragorn *did* in fact serve in both armies (we didn't make that part up), but we may have gotten him a little mixed around, since it's beginning to look like he served in Gondor first, *then* Rohan. *sigh* Oh well! ; ) I'm glad you liked Theodwyn's predicament as well; or rather her rescue (even if not exactly original). ; D Thanks!
Rainydayz: *watches Rainydayz flap* Wow, I'm glad you like them! And yes, well, if we can't bring in Legolas just yet, maybe we can distract you…? *catches mid-air-glare* Or not. : P *blushes* Thank you so much! We had a lot of fun with Theodwyn. *tries to wriggle out of grasp on her shirt collar* Writing is rapidly becoming dangerous here. SPRAY PAINT?? *considers the character death question* Um. Well. Maybe you could say that. *smiles faintly* I'd elaborate, but if you didn't kill me, Hannah would. ; ) Honestly? We really *don't* hate you, and don't want to keep upsetting you like this (pig's eyes and spray paint aside), if for no other reason than that you're a Duurben fan; but it seems no matter how hard we try, we always end up wringing tears from our audience! *raises hands helplessly, thereby completely losing her balance as Kelegalen is shoved towards her* OOF! Th-thanks so much, R-rainy! We're *gasp* really g-glad you're liking it so much! *wheeze* : D
e: Another Kelegalen and Nethtalt fan!! Oh, I'm so very happy! *hugs e* Hannah and I were really wondering whether anyone would even remember them, so we're wriggling in ecstasy here. ; ) We didn't think we had it in us either (see top of page). : P
reginabean: You've been either (a) reading too much National Inquirer or (b) watching too much Saturday Night Live. It's making you demanding! ; D And I'm glad you liked our maps!! That was a sort of afterthought, gee-we-may-end-up-confusing-everybody-if-we-don't-give-them-some-sort-of-visual-aide thingy. ; )
Staran: Thanks a bunch! : D
Hiro-tyre: Welcome back! I finally went and capped the Legolas issue under the 'Everyone' comments at the top here. : ) *grins idiotically* Every time someone says they like Duurben, I start glowing and floating and, well, grinning idiotically! Thank you so much! This fic is exactly 12 years after D or D (as you find out in this chapter), putting Nethtalt at about 25 and Kelegalen at about 60. I suppose someone might notice that very little change has taken place with Thorongil, but then Thorongil (from just having been outdoors a lot) might actually look enough older not to excite suspicion, or else Kelegalen may distrust his own memory enough to not pick up on it. I'm not really sure which theory is correct (if either); I never got around to asking Kelegalen… : P Numerous commas are my besetting grammar sin, and since I am head editor, I must take full responsibility. *sigh* Sorry 'bout that! : } Review when you can, it's okay! Thanks! : D
Asen: *kicks Asen's computer* Kind of funny how they call turning a computer on 'booting it up', isn't it? : P I agree about languages!! All I know are bits of elvish, pieces of Spanish, and Offengloffish (which probably shouldn't count…). Thanks! : )
Lina: *locks mechanical horse in closet, dodges more toast* : D *exasperated sigh* For heaven's sake, how can you protect him from our evilness (I mean the bad guys' evilness) when you've done such an effective job of making him wish to avoid you?? Not to mention whacking poor Duurben… *piece of toast bounces off her head* Oh well. I suppose there's no stopping you when you get going, is there? I'm glad you're liking this so much! : )
Eomer: *can't quite stifle a laugh at the Horse Lover's Anonymous* Ahem! I mean, I'm glad you have such support. *ducks more toast* Say, when Lina drags you back to lovely NC, would you mind collecting some of this? *nudges toast with toe* It's getting to ankle depth. ; P
w: *hugs w* It seems you are one of the few people from whom we can take constructive criticism; may I thank you for your honesty as well as your tact? You're right: the horse has been done before and done better. I had hoped I might get away with it, but in the future I guess I'll go the route of 'invent it yourself'. : ) Your compliments on our pacing continue to go to my head! Such feedback is the sort I value most (as I've probably said, but it bears repeating). I'm glad you liked Thengel and Thorongil!! I worried that perhaps I had overreached myself there. *whew* ; ) A thousand thanks on Medui too! A funny note about the pacing of Thorongil's thoughts: In general co-authoring is rendered largely risk free by (a) the two writers having similar styles (which we do for the most part) and (b) a great deal of prior planning (at least in our case). The only thing which remains risky is the blending of the parts each of us have written! This is, I think, the first time we have changed authors mid-scene, and Hannah and I weren't quite on the same page because we wrote the two halves simultaneously. Not an excuse -- as editor it's my job to fix such things -- but since it will probably happen a couple times in this fic, I felt I ought to explain! Thank you for your personal opinion; we happen to value it highly! : ) And finally: we really shocked you? And you really liked it? Thank you SO much! We're most thrilled whenever our OCs get a welcome, and the fresh welcome these are getting is wonderful. : D
Another day, another non-Legolas post; please be kind to us poor beleaguered authors! We promise we'll never do it again! Or at least, we'll really try not to… ]; )
___________________________________________________________________________
/ (o) \ (o) / (o) \ (o) / (o) \ (o) / (o) \ (o) / (o) \
Thorongil
By Sarah and Hannah (Siri)
(disclaimers, explanations, and summaries
available at the top of chapter 1)
/ (o) \ (o) / (o) \ (o) / (o) \ (o) / (o) \ (o) / (o) \
Chapter 10
Findel
If Mavranor had not taken up her abode in the stone remains of the captured fort, her cry would have been heard across the Anduin. As it was, the stones deadened the sound, and even the sentries were unaware of the turmoil in the queen's tent. It was only Harnwe who flinched visibly and, reaching forward, tried to calm his wife in the middle of her anger and grief. Stalking and wringing her hands like a caged animal she brushed him aside with barely a glance, scoring his forearm unintentionally with her long fingernails. Again the king of the Haradrim winced, more from surprise than pain, but now he rose and his expression was impatient.
"He is not dead yet, my own, why must you show your emotion so openly?"
She rounded on him like a tigress, "Do you believe that because you hold no love for your own brother that all are so cursed?! And what matter if he is not dead at this moment? Do not for a instant try to placate me with false hopes of his being returned to me! Barbarians our enemies are, one and all, and if they do not torture Gwanur to gain information of our movements, do you think they will let him live? Nay." And again her hands clenched, her pale face contorted with the agony of equally brilliant love for her only brother, and hatred for his captors.
Harnwe brought his fist down on the half charred remains of a heavy table and it cracked and fell beneath the blow, but he paid it no heed. "Will you then remain withdrawn and hopeless when I—" he had been close to saying he needed her, but thought the better of it, and shoved a browned hand roughly through his hair. "If so, you are no fit queen. I would have been better to have left you on the other side of the river with the common people."
Her eyes, turbulent already, flashed into sudden lightening, and as was usual, she was suddenly and dazzlingly beautiful. Also deadly. "Speak not those words again, my lord. I am quite prepared to fight, if necessary, and will most certainly not be relegated to overseeing the building of your machines."
He kept down a smile of satisfaction and nodded, "Very well then. I shall keep you here, though I will not have need of you in battle, my own. Word has come to me that your brother and all the rest whom the enemy took have been kept in their northern fort. According to our spies, they live yet, and are so far unharmed."
Mavranor cut him off, pacing now with energy, "Then we must act quickly! Attack while they are still weakened… This fort did not stand even a full night against us, and if we had continued on, we might well have taken the other two—"
"Halt, woman, err thy tongue carries you away with it!" He said sternly, "We had not yet tools enough to conquer the enemy's other forts, and still have not. If my orders had been carried swiftly enough, a foolhardy attack would never have been begun on them and your brother would still be amongst us!"
She stopped her pacing, knowing he was correct, but conceding nothing. "Then what shall we do, my lord?"
He liked the respectful tone, though he knew there was no submission behind it. "We will try something more cunning, my own — something that will require no loss of life, if managed appropriately. For you are right, we must move swiftly. We will offer them a trade."
"And what sort of trade?" she pressed further, smiling a little as she came closer to him, her breath warm. "We took no prisoners."
When he whispered softly in her ear, she laughed, as at a fine jest, and kissed him.
/ (o) \ (o) / (o) \ (o) / (o) \ (o) / (o) \ (o) / (o) \
Nethtalt left the guard house with his message, making no complaint at being sent off even when he assuredly would have preferred to stay. As the other three men took seats round a rough wooden table, Thorongil nodded his head towards the young man's departing back.
"He has grown into a son to be proud of, Kelegalen."
The older man nodded, the light in his eyes revealing his pride, "Aye, Ilúvatar has blessed me greatly. I would say even more so than some fathers whose children are their own from birth."
For a moment Thorongil caught the threads of a fleeting memory — a saddened man with nothing left in his own country to live for, and a lad broken at the loss of his birth father — but they were blown away faster than he could bring them into focus.
"Did your journey home go well?" he asked with interest, as Kelegalen passed them weed for their pipes and lit his own.
"Very well, considering the condition of the lands between here and Gilthad. Nethtalt's village had completely emptied after all its men had been taken, so we did not linger there, but returned here to the lands of my own birth; Stavhold came with us."
"Stavhold?" Thorongil interrupted with interest. "I had wondered what became of him." He and Stavhold had not parted well.
Kelegalen nodded, "Aye, he joined Nethtalt and myself a few days after we separated from you. He had no one to return to, and we had no lasting hard ill feeling — it was Nethtalt who insisted, in truth. When we arrived, he joined the éored here almost immediately. As for Nethtalt and myself: for a while only stayed within Nannva, a small village near here, and raised horses as the others did. Nethtalt learned our language and the art of horsemanship and soon you could not have told him apart from the others of his age." Again there was pride in Kelegalen's voice. "But perhaps there is too much fighting in my blood; several years later I joined the Bronweg's éored as well, and when Nethtalt grew old enough he followed me. I gained high trust with Bronweg, as well as Eorwine, and we have since split much of our time between the three fortresses here, though what home we have is still in Nannva." He smiled, "It has been a good twelve years."
"I'm more glad for you than I can say," Thorongil smiled in return. "I only wish I could have come to see you when I served here."
"You served *here*?" Kelegalen repeated in surprise, exhaling a small puff of smoke.
"Aye, but always in the north. There did not seemed to be much trouble in the south."
Kelegalen snorted softly, his brow creasing, "No, indeed not. Very little, anyway. We've had the occasional group of orcs from southern Mirkwood, but that was not enough to encourage us to keep a closer watch."
"You could not have known, my friend." Thorongil said firmly, his hand gripping Kelegalen's on the table top. "What could the Haradrim possibly want from you that would bring them so far and in such numbers?"
"Our horses or our lands," the man responded promptly, as one who has thought long on the subject. "That is all we have of value here in the Wold."
"What measures are you taking for their protection?"
"I fear that there is not much that we can do at present," Kelegalen said heavily. "Plans have not been set in motion as yet and we are to wait and prepare all we can. It is an ill wind that buffets our walls, for we are already depleted in numbers, now that Tulganif is taken by the Southrons."
Thorongil nodded his head once, his blue eyes intent as he smoked silently for a few minutes.
"You have not told me what became of the both of you, my friend?" Kelegalen questioned lightly, brushing away the dark mood like cobwebs from his mind.
The captain shrugged, "We returned home safely, and my father scolded me to within an inch of my life. "
Kelegalen laughed aloud, knowing his companion was jesting, "And then?"
"I continued on with my relatively quiet life for another two years, and then decided it would be well to see more of Middle Earth. I journeyed to Edoras and became a soldier of fortune for seven years, learning the ways of the Rohirrim much as Nethtalt did; after that, I came to Gondor and have been there ever since."
Duurben turned even more thoughtful where he was sitting; he had never heard even half this story before.
"You are already a captain — that speaks well of you, Thorongil." Kelegalen praised soberly. "But then, I already knew of your fighting spirit."
The door creaked open again, admitting Nethtalt, who pulled off his cloak. "The repairs on the east wall have begun, but Captain Eorwine isn't certain they can be completed before the next attack."
"Doubtful," Kelegalen agreed, knocking his pipe against his knee. "I should go see for myself, but first I must apprise Thorongil of the defenses as they stand now and get the both of them fresh horses."
"I'm sure we can manage on our own," Thorongil assured him. "We don't want to take you from your work."
"No, not at all. There are a thousand and one things that require my attention, and several of them lie in the direction of the horse paddock. Besides which, it is unlikely I can do anything for the wall that Eorwine is not doing; I only wish to ascertain their endurance so that I may factor that in to my defense plans, and I can do that later."
The four men left the fort by the main gate, Nethtalt retrieving several communiqués that needed delivering to the troops outside the walls. The town was crowded, both with the residents themselves, and the extra soldiers with their horses. Venders sold food and rope and other essentials in low, thatched buildings; blacksmiths plied their trade with vigor, hoping to keep ahead of the sudden rush of business; children and their mothers mixed in the streets with tall men in helms.
As they walked, Kelegalen pointed out the size of the reinforcements, the lay of the land, and the common people. He sighed, "They will not leave! They seem to be under the misapprehension that Medui can protect them; they do not even consider that the enemy might wash around us like the sea around a stone and reach them even in the rear."
"What will you do with them if the attack is too fierce for you to hold back?" Thorongil asked in concern.
"We will bring them into the fort," Nethtalt said briefly. "There is little room, but Eorwine was adamant, and Father agreed."
"And you?"
"Naturally *I* agree," the young man said soberly, adding by way of explanation, "I've seen too many burned villages."
Duurben caught Thorongil's sleeve, pulling him aside for a moment as Nethtalt paused to deliver the first of the communiqués to tired looking scout. "Captain, I have been thinking, and there is no possible way these men can hold such a fort against so many. Maybe if they had kept the forward fort, but with only this…"
"Don't underestimate them, Duurben. They may not be of Gondor, but this is their land, these are their families, and out there are their horses. The men of these southern éoreds are gathered from the farmers who then split their time between crops, horses, and defense. They may not be as well trained as a soldier whose only occupation lies in fighting, but their motivation is all the more strong." He clapped his friend on the shoulder, "Do not begin your worrying just yet."
"Where is Father?" Nethtalt was back. His glanced around once and then answered his own question, "Oh, there he is."
Kelegalen had crossed the road and was now conversing with a stranger beside a cart half filled with goods. When they joined them, he smiled and introduced them, "This is Thalion, a good friend from Nannva. And this is Thorongil and Duurben; they were sent from Gondor to aid us, as I said."
"I am pleased to meet you," Thalion inclined his head. He was middle aged, with the same weathered appearance of all the Rohirrim who lived on the plains and the sharp eyes of a fighter.
"Thalion is part of our éored, but he is currently returning to Nannva to take his turn at guard duty. We did not wish to leave the women and children unprotected, so we assigned their defense in shifts of four men at a time; chiefly to help them flee if an attack comes rather than fight the enemy single handed."
"I'm also taking back supplies," Thalion explained easily.
"Is Aldor not with you?" Nethtalt asked, glancing around.
"No, my wife has a touch of fever and I didn't wish her to be exposed to the cold, so Aldor stayed behind to care for the horses; he has become quite good with them for a lad. But I am not alone, my niece insisted on coming to help with the purchases." He gave a wry half-smile, "I think she is under the impression she must work to repay for taking her in. As if she doesn't work the hardest of the three of us anyway!"
There was a thud as of something heavy being placed in the back of the cart, and a young woman came around the side, her head turned as she looked back over her shoulder. "There was no more wheat, so we will have to make do with barley again—" her gaze came back around and she stopped suddenly, her long, flyaway hair catching the sunlight and flashing gold in the crisp air. "I beg pardon, I did not see you were in conversation."
Thorongil shook his head reassuringly, catching out of the corner of his eye Nethtalt's face. The chilly wind had turned it faintly red.
"May I present my niece, Findelglaur," Thalion announced, chuckling.
"Findel, if you please," she said, looking embarrassed, and giving an abbreviated curtsey. "Greetings, Kelegalen, Nethtalt, sirs."
"I'm glad to see you looking so well," Kelegalen said kindly, taking pity on her.
"Will the both of you be staying long?"
"Not very, we have a few more things to get and then we must be off if we are to arrive by early evening." Thalion glanced at the cart, seemingly running over in his head the things he still had to purchase. "We will need more iron for our small smithy, and leather," he frowned. "Unfortunately they are both things that I must see to."
"I can purchase the iron," Findel suggested, her hands reaching up automatically to try and push her hair back into its binding.
"But you cannot carry it all yourself. Even I would need to take two trips."
"I will go with her," Nethtalt offered, moving to Findel's side.
"And I will as well," Thorongil finished. "We will be able to bring it in one trip that way."
Thalion was grateful and the group separated, Duurben following Kelegalen to the horse paddock.
"How was your journey?" Nethtalt asked Findel as they wove their way between people to the smoking shop of the blacksmith. The wind pulled at the woman's long, green cloak, showing her brown homespun skirt underneath.
"Very well; the weather is still excellent for traveling. Uncle was pleased, for he didn't wish to be gone when night fell." Her blue eyes twinkled, "He says it is to take care of the horses, but that is only so I won't tell Aunt Rokhiell that he was worrying over her again. Women here are often alone when the men leave to gather the horses together — we are used to it — and she really isn't that sick, but the reassurance means little to my uncle. She is constantly saying he is like a large mother hen in the way he clucks and stews."
"I don't blame him," Nethtalt answered, but in a sudden way, as if he hadn't meant to say it.
Findel laughed, a sound like willow leaves in a spring wind. "Nethtalt, I would remind you that we have grown our whole lives on these plains! Such an upbringing keeps you strong when other women from more sheltered lives might wither. And as I have said: my aunt is both braver and stronger than *you* would know."
"Now that is not true!" he objected seriously. "Remember, I was already living in Nannva six winters ago."
"I forgot," she admitted, smiling apologetically and catching up a few pieces of straw as they stood outside the smithy, waiting for their turn. Her slender fingers, calloused in a few places from holding the reigns of a horse, moved skillfully, braiding the bleached strands absently as she turned at last to Thorongil, "I'm sorry; it is rude to leave you from the conversation."
"Not at all," Thorongil shook his head, watching them as they sat side by side on an abandoned bale of straw. He leaned against the rough wooden walls behind him, "Does your family raise horses?"
"Aye, nearly all in Nannva do. My uncle is a harness maker as well."
"He seems a most admirable man."
"He is." The young woman's agreement was firm, and she explained simply, "When my parents died he and my aunt brought me to their village and took me in. They have treated me as a daughter ever since; I owe them much."
She finished the braid and curved it into a circle, like a bracelet, and compared it to a similar one around her wrist that was made from dark gray horsehair. Then she tossed it to the ground, and cast an irritated glance at the leaden sky. "Must all in Medui choose this day to have their horses shod?"
"You always were impatient," Nethtalt shook his head.
"And you?" the young woman demanded, her eyebrows rising. "Are you to tell me you have never wished the sun set faster, or the moon rose with greater speed?"
"Something of that nature," he said calmly, "though I am sure you will not believe me." He cocked an eye in the captain's direction, "Perhaps Thorongil will speak for me?"
Thorongil raised his hands, not wishing to be drawn into their argument, however light. "I knew you only as a boy, Nethtalt, I would not presume that you are unchanged."
"Very well then," Findel said brightly, her eyes alight with mischief, "tell me only what he was like as a child. He never speaks of it." The words were faintly accusing.
Nethtalt seemed to be signaling with his eyes that Thorongil should not speak, but the captain ignored the young man and replied, "Well, I'm afraid I met and knew him chiefly over the course of a single event, but to put it very briefly, he was probably one of the bravest of his years I have had the privilege to meet. In a perilous situation he aided myself and several others, including his father, with the intelligence and energy we found in only a few of the grown men around us. He was loyal to his companions, single-minded in his purpose, and was willing at the end to accept his new future and succeed in it. When we at last parted, though he was only thirteen, I considered him a valuable ally, and a good friend. Thus I am very grateful he has not forgotten me."
There was a short pause in which Nethtalt was scarlet — a color that mixed oddly with his flaxen hair and green eyes — and Findel was thoughtful. Finally she spoke, "I thank you, for he has never mentioned such an incident as you describe before. However, I ought to berate you as well," here she smiled briefly at her knees, "for it was false to imply he had changed."
At that moment, the smith stepped forward, and Findel rose to meet him, pulling out a small pouch of gold. Thorongil paused, waiting for Nethtalt, but the young man seemed frozen to the straw bale. A second later he shook himself, stooped to retrieve something from the ground — which he placed in his pocket — and then followed.
The last of the supplies were stowed in the cart, with the iron distributed evenly to keep the load from injuring the horse. Thalion climbed into his seat and reached back down to offer a hand to his niece, but she paused, glancing over her shoulder. "When will we see you all again?"
"Nethtalt will be on guard duty in another week," Kelegalen answered her.
"Aldor will be glad of that," she said. "He has missed you sadly." Then she took her seat and the cart turned, heading north.
"They should make good time," Kelegalen nodded, "but we have talked long enough. Come: Duurben aided me in selecting a horse for you, but it would be well for him to meet you before you ride him, and battle could come any day."
They turned back towards the paddock, Duurben frowning at the ground, and for a while there was silence as Thorongil considered whether or not to ask the question at the back of his mind. Finally he ventured tentatively, "Kelegalen, I have no wish to seem presumptuous—"
Kelegalen's eyes glinted suddenly with amusement, "My son and Findel?"
Thorongil nodded, his eyebrow lifting, "Has he…?"
"Not yet. I couldn't wish him any better, but if you were to ask me, I should say he is nervous about something. Perhaps she is simply too wonderful to ask."
Duurben stared as his captain smiled over this oddly disjointed exchange; however Thorongil was also shaking his head in what might have been sympathy.
TBC…